Quintessence of life: mysteries unveiled
by Amaranthe Athenais
Summary: Sheriff Vaisey, Guy, and others travel to the Holy Land to assassinate King Richard. The dramatic and head-spinning events happen in Acre. Robin, Guy, and Marian unmask the dark mysteries of the past and manage to resolve the dangerous triangle of love and hatred. Yet, the fight is not over, and the Black Knights have a trump card up their sleeve. This is part two of the long epic.
1. prologue

_This is the second part one of a long epic "Quintessence of life." This part is called "Mysteries unveiled." If you haven't read the first part "Mysteries of the past" yet, I recommend that you read it at first and then come back to this story. Otherwise you risk failing to understand some twists and events in this story._

_"Quintessence of life" is a long and captivating epic about love, hatred, politics, deceits, and mysteries. Robin, Guy, and Marian have to unmask the fathomless mysteries of the past and untangle the dangerous triangle of love and hatred. The characters fight for the truth and peace in their lives, carving out their true paths among deaths and bloodshed, as well as mysteries, intrigues and lies._

_In this alternative universe, Marian doesn't die as it happened on the show in the final episode of season 2. I have always thought that killing Marian was BBC's gravest mistake. After Marian had died, it was clear that Robin and Guy, who both loved her, were doomed to die in the end of Season 3._

_This part begins with the events in Nottingham as Sheriff Vaisey and his accomplices depart to the Holy Land to kill King Richard and Robin Hood._

_The story has an intriguing plot, unpredictable and original twists, and multidimensional portrayal of characters. It is detailed and descriptive, and there are quite many head-spinning chapters._

_Like the first part of this long epic, the second part is not centered about any particular character. I am trying to devote enough time to every main character – Robin, Guy, Marian – and the existing relationships, whatever they are – the Guy/Marian relationship or the Robin/Marian relationship or the Robin/Melisende relationship. __If you are an extremely devoted fan of any pairing (Marian/Robin or Marian/Guy), then you may find it somewhat difficult to accept the fact that, in spite of marrying Guy, Marian's feelings are shown as torn between Robin and Guy, which, I believe, was the reality on the show in the end of season 2._

_I won't tell you whom I will eventually ship – Marian and Robin or Marian and Guy; honestly, I am still thinking about that. There will be unexpected twists ahead. Marian and Robin will reunite, or perhaps Guy and Marian will be happy. It is also possible that Marian will finally be alone, without Robin or Guy, as they go on separate paths._

_The plot is largely focused on the political aspect of Robin Hood's cause – fighting for England and King Richard. Robin has to deal with Sheriff Vaisey and his party, who travel to Acre to kill the King of England. Shocking and dramatic regicide happens in Imuiz, like it took place in S2E13. Later many events also happen in Nottingham. There is a tragedy there and a lot of angst and anguish in this part of the story. I can only say that Marian doesn't die, but some other characters die._

_Robin is portrayed as the King's man and the people's hero, but anyway more as the King's man, which is how I believe he was portrayed on the show. A lot of information is given about the sophisticated conspiracies against King Richard weaved by Prince John, Vaisey, and the Black Knights._

_The love component of this story includes Robin/Melisende, Guy/Marian, Robin/Marian, Will/Djaq, and some other relationships. The love triangle of Marian, Robin Hood, and Guy of Gisborne is analyzed in details through the actions and the thoughts of the characters. _

_The plot is not absolutely historically accurate. Yet, there will be many events from the real history, like the end of the Third Crusade and King Richard's captivity. Some historical events will be manipulated and changed for fiction purposes._

_There is no character bashing in this story. No character is placed on a pedestal, even Robin. I am not hostile to any particular character and try to be fair to Robin, Guy, Marian, the Sheriff, and other characters. I am trying to portray everyone more or less closer to the reality (what we had on the show). Yet, some actions/situations may be interpreted as out-of-character, but this is alternative reality and fiction, and there can be some deviations from an original portrayal/case._

_Please be aware that there are scenes of violence and bloodshed. There are also extremely sensitive scenes, very emotional and dramatic._

_Any reviews are welcome, either good or bad. Constructive criticism is always welcome. I would be very grateful if you find a minute to write a review. I only ask you to be polite and tolerant, for I believe that if people begin to bash a story or a plotline without stating rational reasons for their dislike, it will make an environment for everyone – an author and readers – unhealthy and tense._

_Undoubtedly, I don't own any characters and the show. In addition, some characters are to be introduced into the story by myself._

_Thank you for reading this brief introduction._

_Hope you will enjoy the story._

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><p><strong>Quintessence of life<strong>

**Part 2**

**Mysteries unveiled**

**Prologue**

In the brilliant sunshine of the April afternoon, Robin of Locksley was slowly making his way through the streets of Acre. He was dressed in an ankle-length and loose robe made out of the finest red, white, and blue silk in an Arabic fashion. He covered his head with a ghutra, fastened on his face with a red-and-white egal, which had completely hidden his sandy-colored hair and his only slightly tanned skin; only his pale blue eyes betrayed his true origin. He looked like a rich Saracen merchant, and on his waist there was a silver sheathed scimitar, which he wore to protect himself from robbers.

Today Robin wasn't accompanied by the King's guards and even by Much. He needed to explore the surroundings by himself, not attracting attention to his infamous persona in the Holy Land. He needed to hear everything discussed by the Saracen inhabitants of Acre – from secret conversations to idle chats to simple rumors; he had to be King Richard's ears and eyes in the city of Acre. For that reason, Robin disguised himself as a Saracen and strolled down the streets of the city.

Robin wandered around the streets of Acre, his head high, his spine straight, his gait proud and lofty. He nodded at the Muslims, but he never made a long eye contact with anyone for the sake of keeping his identity in secret. He didn't want someone to remark the color of his eyes – pale blue, which showed that he wasn't a Saracen. He also didn't stop and ask for directions in the city, for he knew the plan of Acre very well and could get anywhere within the walls even in the nighttime.

In the past weeks, Robin of Locksley, Robert de Beaumont, Carter Leighton of Stretton, and several other King's men regularly disguised themselves in Saracen clothes and lazily strolled down the streets of Acre, meddling with the crowds of the Muslims and other Crusaders. It was a new confidential method of conducting reconnaissance by the King's men for the sake of protecting King Richard from the Black Knights and Vaisey's Saracen allies.

After Robin had killed Robert de Sablé, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, it became clear that Prince John would again try to assassinate the rightful King of England. Robin and his friends expected Sheriff Vaisey, Gisborne, and other accomplices to come to Acre in the next several months.

As a result, the security measures were significantly toughened, and the new methods of conducting reconnaissance were introduced at Robin's initiative. Robin, Robert, Carter, and three people spoke excellent Arabic, and it was not difficult for them to understand what the people in the streets talked about. Robin and his friends desperately hoped that they would hear something that could have led them to the Sheriff's Turkish allies who, they believed, had a hideout somewhere in Acre.

As he explored the Genoese, the Pisan, and the Venetian quarters, Robin visited several local marketplaces with warehouses and shops, taking in his surroundings. After he had almost crisscrossed the three merchant quarters, he headed to the harbor. He passed the headquarters of the Hospitallers and the Knights Templar, his gaze wandering around and always stopping at the Accursed Tower, which was a kind of guideline for him not to lose his bearings in case taking a wrong path.

As Robin was approaching the harbor, the streets grew wider, with every space overcrowded by too many people. As on most afternoons before the hours of evening prayer, large crowds filled the streets, heading toward or returning from the bustling marketplace in the center of Acre. Servants ran from their masters' houses to shops, and then returned with goods purchased. The Crusaders that controlled the city settled disputes and kept the peace. Wealthy merchants argued among themselves about the price of ivory or cloth or wheat or some Arabic delicacies. Sailors and others wandered through various inns and taverns, searching for a new adventure or just a good barroom brawl.

"Life seems to be prosperous and calm in Acre. It is so difficult to imagine that there are only death and bloodshed and yellow sand outside the walls of the city," Robin mused.

The sun was hot, so hot that Robin feared it might set the fire alight on his head. There was no breeze blowing from the sea, and the still air was drenched with the stink of oil and sweat. In the sweltering heat, Robin became more impatient, cursing the heat over and over again, yet forcing himself to stay calm and continue walking down the narrow streets of the city.

Several weeks passed since they had started using this new method of reconnaissance, but they didn't find any trace of Vaisey's Muslim allies in Acre yet. Nobody of the King's disguised men heard anything about anyone's plans to attempt regicide or any reference to Vaisey. The King's spies in the Angevin Empire knew nothing new about the plans of the Black Knights to assassinate the King or usurp power in any other way. It was lull before the storm, and obviously something was going to happen.

"I begin to think that this reconnaissance will give us nothing," Robin thought as he crossed the street and then turned around the corner in the narrow alley. "But Vaisey will come to Acre and will try to kill King Richard. There is no way he will stay out of the matter. He will come."

Today, traveling through the city, Robin heard many people discussing the Third Crusade and the perspective of making peace with Saladin. Many times, he heard the Christian knights speak freely about Robin of Locksley, the Captain of the King's Private Guard and the man whom they considered the most probable candidature to bring the long-awaited peace in the Holy Land.

Robin didn't hear anything interesting, which was directly or indirectly connected with the Shah Mat Operation. He overheard many conversations of Christians, and very few of them were hungry for money, and even fewer wished a new adventure in the Holy Land. Merchants hoped that peace with Saladin would result in a decrease of taxes and an increase of turnover in the port of Acre. Everyone wished the Crusade to be over – everyone wanted peace. He overheard only two weaponsmiths talking about the Crusade with enthusiasm; they were an exception from the general trend.

The late afternoon sun was just reaching the horizon, and many businesses were closing. The Saracens hurried to attend the evening prayer in the mosques. Robin didn't follow their example and continued walking down the street, hurrying to be on the main street adjacent to the harbor. Soon only few Crusaders patrolled the streets, but Robin knew that many Christian soldiers would appear in several hours, going to the exotic brothels to indulge themselves in sins of flesh.

Robin continued walking straight ahead, his eyes wandering around, his mind concentrated. He heard only the loud laugher of the night guard patrolling the city and the sounds of the evening prayer. Suddenly, he noticed two shadowy figures ahead of him, and those two Saracens apparently didn't want to be seen or heard by anyone. Pressing himself to the walls of the buildings, Robin followed the two men, who kept going up the narrow street, skulking in and out of alleyways, lanes, and streets.

The sun had long set behind the sandy hills, and the shades of evening hung over the sandy dunes and the small gardens of the houses along the street. They were heading somewhere to the suburbs of Acre, and it unnerved Robin, his heart hammering harder and harder in anxiety mingled with fear.

At first, Robin thought that the two Saracens were waiting for unwary travelers or drunken adventurers to stumble into their traps and then rob them. But the more he followed them, the more suspicious they seemed to be. The Saracens stopped near one of the taverns and walked inside. Robin hid himself behind the corner of the nearby building and waited. Luckily, the Saracens walked out of the tavern in just a minute and marched down the street, and Robin followed them.

Robin's misgivings grew as they moved away further from the center of the city, towards the suburbs of Acre. They were not alone on the road: pale figures of patrolling Crusaders flitted through the night all around. Robin continued following the two men, noiselessly and creepingly, and the Saracens had no idea that they were tracked down; the years of service in the King's Private Guard provided the young Captain with a great experience to walk through the walls and stay undetected by everyone.

The Saracens paused at the crossroads, and Robin stopped as well, pressing himself to the walls of another building. Robin stood and watched the Saracens; then he looked back and could see the city laid out beneath him, a chain of watch-fires surrounding the lamplit streets and churches. To his left, on the eastern side, a smaller cordon of light marked out the dimensions of the Citadel of Acre and the Accursed Tower; Robin knew the location, and this knowledge calmed him down.

"Nasir, have you heard anything from our Christian friend?" one of the Saracens asked in Arabic. "I mean something about Sheriff Vaisey or Guy of Gisborne."

"Karim, I haven't heard anything interesting. We should wait more," Nasir replied, also in Arabic.

Robin swallowed hard; his heart pounded in sickening thuds as he tried to strain his ears. The reconnaissance finally gave a result: it seemed that he was able to discover Vaisey's Muslim allies. He frowned, wondering who their Christian friend was.

Then Robin felt someone tug at his hand, and he turned his head, staring into Robert's pale green eyes. He turned his head, and his gaze met Carter's deep blue eyes. Robin shook his head, then sighed with relief that he wasn't alone there.

"What are we going to do? Are we going to kill Melek-Ric before he makes peace with Saladin?" Karim inquired, his voice edged with the notes of anxiety and irritation. "If Robin of Locksley formed an alliance with the Hashashin, then they are likely to begin the negotiations with Saladin very soon."

"We must get rid of Melek-Ric before he makes peace with Saladin," Nasir replied quietly.

"We failed to kill the barbarian King so many times," Karim said discomposedly. "We can kill the King on the day of Captain Locksley's upcoming wedding. There will be many people in the streets; we will be able to blend with the crowd and kill Melek-Ric."

"No, no, no," Nasir contradicted with determination. "There will be too many people there. The security measures will be toughened so much that even a fly won't find a way to be near the wedding cortege."

"But we must kill Melek-Ric! He must pay for the crimes he committed in our lands!"

"Karim, don't be so hotheaded. We cannot act without a signal from England," a categorical answer followed. "I also want Melek-Ric dead, but we cannot act without Lord Vaisey. We should wait."

"When will Vaisey come to Acre, Nasir?"

"Today I had a meeting with our spy in the Crusaders' camp," Nasir informed. "He told me that the Sheriff should arrive in the Holy Land soon. Maybe he is already on the way to Acre from England."

Robin clenched his fists as anger gripped him like a mighty flame. Strong waves of fury mingled with dread hammered into him, his heart was beating to suffocation. He exhaled, feeling simultaneously agitated, disappointed, and frightened. But despite the wealth of emotions coursing through him, his face was entirely expressionless in so far as either fear or anger was concerned.

_Now Robin understood who their Christian friend was. There was an unknown wretched spy among the King's men, but it was extremely difficult to uncover the villain._ Robin had little hope to identify the spy, who seemed to be so skilful and so sly, unless the man committed at least a little mistake by chance, giving the Crusaders a precious opportunity of succeeding in finding the traitor.

"It would be great if our spy learnt something else," Karim said with annoyance.

"He does everything he can. He has to be very cautious."

"I just hope that we won't lose our last spy in the King's camp."

"Our spy ordered us to wait and not to act without the Sheriff," Nasir said strictly. "He said that Vaisey is a resourceful and cunning man. He swore that the Sheriff would be able to outwit the King's guards, especially Robin of Locksley and Robert de Beaumont."

"So we wait for the Sheriff's arrival and then kill the King," Karim summarized.

"Yes," Nasir confirmed. "Now let's go from here. Hurry up."

Robin, Carter, and Robert wanted to follow the two conspirators. Unfortunately, they were spotted by the two patrolling Crusaders who headed directly to them, intending to check the hiding Saracens. Robin and Robert didn't plan to let the others know their true identities; they ambushed the Crusaders and escaped. They ran away as fast as their legs accrued them, heading to the harbor and then to the Genoese quarter, where they had a secret place to remove their disguise and change their clothes.

By the time they had reached the Genoese quarter, the streets were already completely dark. Although the Genoese quarter didn't have an access to the sea, unlike the Venetian and the Pisan quarters which had been built by merchants nearby the port, a slight breeze still sprang up there and swept the sand from the ground into whimsical patterns around the running men. Everything around went deathly quiet as they finally stopped near a one-storied building and gulped in breaths of the fresh air.

Robin stared at the flickering lights at one of the windows. "It is such a great pity that we missed them. If those two Crusaders weren't so interested in us, we could have followed Vaisey's allies and discover their nest." His voice sounded tired and frustrated.

"There was no way we could have followed those Saracens," Robert said in soothing tones, though he had also been frustrated.

Carter sighed. "We couldn't have allowed our fellow men to learn that the King's highly favored generals had disguised themselves as local populace and strolled in the city."

Robin didn't speak for a while. He raised his eyes and looked at the sky. Numerous bright stars came out, glimmering in the dark sky above the city of Acre.

The night sky was very beautiful and clear in the desert, but today it was somehow different, for it was both lighter and darker in different parts of the dark canvas; the flaming stars of different hues were set in velvet folds of deepest indigo, midnight blue, and even light blue. The moon gleamed and loomed huge on the horizon, and the picture was so clear and vivid that they could see the craters and scars on its surface livid with dark shadows.

Robin grunted a laugh. "At least we know their names – Karim and Nasir."

Robert laughed back. "Do you know how many people with these names live in Acre?"

Robin turned his gaze at his friend. "_At least we have learnt something new about Vaisey's allies_," he said between clenched teeth. "_And we also know that we have another traitor among us_."

Carter frowned. "It was naïve to hope that we uncovered all traitors in the recent massacre."

"It appears that we were mistaken," Robert concluded.

"We will have to do something. I will think of something," Robin murmured.

Robert swept his eyes over the central square in the Genoese quarter. "We should go."

"Yes. The King will be worried," Robin retorted, a grim grin hovering over his lips.

Robert grinned. "Our liege misses us."

"The King always misses us," Carter said with satisfaction. "But this time we have bad news for him."

The moon disappeared behind the cloud, and the inky darkness descended upon the city. The magic of the pale moonlight lost its enchantment, and Robin felt the dull ache of loneliness, as well as pleasure, for the darkness reliably covered his fears and insecurities. A sick feeling began to settle in his stomach, together with a vague sense of terror that churned with increasing ferocity. He was very nervous that they had a traitor in the King's camp.

By the time when they returned to the camp, it had already been past midnight. They looked like Crusaders after they had changed their clothes in the Genoese quarter.

But despite the late hour, they didn't plan to go to bed, for they had to share with King Richard urgent news about Sheriff Vaisey and the planned regicide attempts. Night was young, and they had many hours ahead to discuss their findings and invent a new plan of action.

§§§

The April night was chilly and very clear. The sky was dark blue, sparkling with dew and starlight, and utter silence reigned in Nottingham. It was a deathlike stillness, like a silence of the tomb, for there were no fluttering birds, no humming insects, no footsteps in the corridors of the castle, and no scurrying people in the streets. In the night, Nottingham reminded the town of death.

The night didn't in the least resemble a peace for Guy of Gisborne, who was gripped by powerful nightmares. Even in his dreams, he felt the depressing influence of the lethal stillness settling down upon him. This time, even Marian's presence in their bed didn't smooth his fears and anxiety.

In his dreams, Guy could see his own body burning in the hellfire, firelight painting him in flickering reds and oranges. He tried to run away from the fire, but there was no escape and new flames licked his clothes and body. Soon, his entire body was enveloped in flame, burning for all his heinous crimes he had committed on the road to power. He felt great pain lanced through his body, moaning in pain.

Guy groaned in his sleep, then rolled over his back. Dread overcoming his entire being, Guy was still struggling with the flames, trying to run away, but someone grabbed his shoulders and held him tightly. Now, there were two burning male figures in Guy's dreams, and the second man prevented Guy from using his last chance for salvation. The tormentor removed his hood, and Guy was eventually able to see the face of the second man – he was Sheriff Vaisey, his master and the man who had brutalized him and had taught him to kill.

The dreadful picture of burning in the hellfire together with Vaisey in a tight embrace sent a shudder of mortal terror through Guy. His body shuddered as his sleepy mind envisioned Vaisey laughing into his face. Then the Sheriff wrapped his arms around his henchman's waist, putting his head on Guy's chest and pressing himself tightly to Guy. The dream was more than Guy could bear.

Guy opened his eyes and pulled himself in a sitting position. He sat in the bed, with his eyes closed, his back straight. He looked at the other side of the bed, where Marian slept peacefully; he was relieved that he didn't awake her with his groans. He swept his eyes over the bedroom, pleased that it wasn't dark; the flames of the candles flickered and the air felt heavy.

With the first rays of the rising sun, Guy rose from the bed and dressed himself in black leather jacket and pants. He was disgusted with the necessity to wear black leather, which he had always associated with Vaisey and the past he craved to forget. He didn't want to wear black leather every day, but he had no choice and had to comply with the Sheriff's demands.

Guy mounted his horse and rode away from the Castle of Nottingham, the sunlight flashing on his black-clad figure as his horse galloped on the dusty road. After his recent nightmare about the hellfire, Guy felt a strange desire to visit a church and made a confession to a priest. He decided not to go to the chapel at the castle, for he suspected that the priest could have been bought by the Sheriff.

He chose to go to the small old church in the suburbs of Nottingham. That church was located close to the former Gisborne lands, and his mother often took him to listen to masses there. It was the church of his childhood, but he never visited it since his return to Nottingham. He hankered to escape from his childhood memories, both good and bad, for they made him feel miserable and sharpened the tart feeling of guilt that lived in the depths of his cold and tormented heart.

Guy dismounted and tied his horse to the tree. He advanced forward and passed through the arch, then stopped near the heavy oak door – the entrance to the church. He opened the door with hands trembling. As he stepped into the candlelight beneath the lofty arched portal, his gaze fell on a black wooden cross that hung on the wall. Guy was so pale, looking like a dead man who rose from a grave.

He stopped in the middle of the chamber, and the old priest looked at him with a silent question in his eyes, for he came to the church earlier than the time of morning mass. Frightened and confused, Guy hardly noticed that the priest walked to him and placed in his hand a heavy, lighted candle of yellow wax.

Then he felt the priest's hand on his shoulder, and the reality claimed him back from his slumber. The priest said something, and Guy responded Amen without any thought. He only recovered life and force when the priest offered him to make a confession, and he nodded wordlessly at the churchman.

Guy felt his blood boiling in his veins, for he was angry with himself that he, Guy of Gisborne, suddenly came to the church and was in the need of confession. He fought with himself to conqueror his emotions, but a remnant of anger and indignation still flashed up in his heart. Only as he calmed down, he noticed that the priest was very old; he wondered how such an old man was not dead yet and was still callable of serving in the local church.

The priest approached Guy slowly. "Sir Guy of Gisborne, I feel your soul is burdened. Did you come here to ask God's pardon for your sins and shortcomings?"

Guy looked intently at him; he clenched and unclenched his fists. "I… don't know why I came."

The old man smiled. "Don't be scared, my son. I know that you are not a demon." He looked at Guy until something arose in his eyes that made his face aflame with all the lights in the church. "I know that your soul is burdened. It should be burdened, like everyone's soul."

Guy gave vent to a sad smile. "I had… a horrible dream… about the hellfire." He lowered his head. "Do you hate me, like everyone in Nottingham hates me because I serve Sheriff Vaisey?"

"My son, I knew your father, Sir Roger of Gisborne," the priest spoke calmly, the corners of his lips quirking in a small smile. "I remember you and your sister in childhood. Why should I hate you?"

At that moment, Guy raised his head mechanically, staring at the old man in amazement. He was so shocked that he staggered, passed his hand across his eyes, looked at the priest again, and muttered something under his breath. His mind reproduced the young priest who served in this church in the times of Guy's boyhood, and he remembered the man in front of him.

"I remember you, too," Guy said numbly.

The old man smiled heartily; he beckoned Guy to himself. "Are you here to confess your sins?"

Guy was at a loss for words. He was so excited and at the same time so frightened that black spots blinded his vision and his mind was afire. A little shudder ran through his large frame and she could feel the goose flesh rise upon his body. He knew that he had little time to decide what to do next.

Looking at the priest's welcoming face and an inviting gesture to go to an enclosed small stall, Guy felt fear overcoming him. Ignoring the growing desire to talk to the man who knew him since childhood, he took several steps back. He stared at the priest for a long moment, his gaze blurred and unfocussed.

Watching the scene, the priest became conscious that Guy felt uncomfortable; he could almost feel Guy trembling violently. He felt sorry for Guy and pleased that there was something good left in his heart, but he couldn't help him if Guy didn't intend to open his heart to God.

Guy shook his head. "I beg my pardon, but I am not ready to make a confession," he said in a shaking voice. "God have mercy on my soul, but I cannot do that."

"I see." The priest looked disappointed.

"How can you say there is really the devil?"

"We know there is the devil because of God's word, but the devil cannot perpetrate his evil works without our sins opening the door," the priest said, stressing his last words.

"I know." Guy's voice was low, nearly a whisper.

"My son, I know that you don't worship the devil."

"No, I don't, but I haven't prayed since childhood," Guy responded quietly. "And do you think that… anyone can… atone for his sins?" An unutterable relief washed over him that he spoke those words.

The priest's voice was in a caressing murmur. "We should not assume a person needs deliverance from the devil or any other evil spirit, but we assume everyone needs repentance and healing." He smiled vaguely. "Your heart craves for redemption, but you cannot get it if you don't wish to repent of your sins and change yourself."

"And what can you do for people who are not willing to repent or who have not enough strength yet to repent?" Guy felt as if he were about to faint, and yet his sensations were singularly acute. Strange sensations continued assaulting Guy. Confusion claimed his senses; then gratitude and hope flooded his soul, and then he suddenly felt numb.

"The priest can bind the devil temporarily by praying for your soul, my son. But eventually you must open up to God's will."

"I understand." Guy's chest heaved with emotions, and he felt that he no longer could have stayed in the church. He looked at the priest with gratitude, then swung around, intending to leave.

"Wait, my son," the priest called in a high voice, almost appealing to the younger man.

Guy stopped, turning his gaze at the other man. "What can I do for you?"

"I was a young man when I started serving in this church, and your father once came to me after his miraculous return from the Holy Land," the priest announced in a steady voice. "I cannot break the seal of confession, but I want to tell you something that can make you… feel uneasy."

"What?" Guy's voice was a husky growl.

The priest sighed heavily, thinking whether he should have continued; boldness prevailed, for he had to warn Guy. "Sir Roger of Gisborne came to this church and confessed his sins several days before the fire at the Gisborne Manor." He paused for an instant, collecting his thoughts. "_Many years ago, your father did something very bad to Malcolm of Locksley and Robin of Locksley_."

"I don't want to hear anything about these people," Guy barked. Then he started walking to the exit.

"Your father did something very bad to Sir Malcolm and young Sir Robin. I doubt that he repented of his wrongdoings before his death," the priest repeated in a higher voice.

"No," Guy breathed. He stood rooted, but he didn't turn around to face the churchman.

"Yes," the priest parried. "Everyone in Nottingham could see that you hate Robin of Locksley, or Robin Hood, but I think I am one of the very few people who understand the roots of your hatred. And I know much more than others know."

Guy coughed nervously. "You cannot break the seal of confession. And the dead people cannot rise to new life." He felt cold shiver running down his spine. "And I highly doubt that my honest father could have somehow wronged Malcolm of Locksley and his spoiled son."

"You are mistaken, Guy," the priest assured. "Your father wasn't the saint."

"But you can tell me nothing," Guy whispered in astonishment.

"Your father told me what he had done, and I know the truth. You have no reason to hate Robin of Locksley; he is not responsible for your troubles and unhappiness."

Guy swung around and froze, staring at the priest with an intensive gaze. "Then who is at fault?"

"Many people were guilty, and your father was one of them." The priest took in Guy's pale face, then sighed heavily. "I have heard rumors that you tried to assassinate King Richard in the Holy Land. Robin Hood told someone that you had attempted regicide, and the gossip circulated in Nottingham." He gave Guy a fierce glare. "But Sir Robin stopped you before you could have killed the King."

"I am not intending to listen to the rumors," Guy growled.

"You may choose not to listen to me, but there are things you must know before it is too late." There was urgent desperation in the priest's voice, and it made Guy swing his gaze at the old man. "You would have committed an act of blasphemy, the gravest crime, if you had murdered King Richard. You would have never atoned if you had managed to kill the King, and not only because he is the King."

Guy scoffed. "The King's life is sacred. The King possesses divine power, right?"

The priest shook his head disapprovingly. "You cannot murder King Richard – just remember that." His voice deepened. "And if you had killed Robin Hood, you would have committed a heinous crime." He raised his voice. "You cannot kill both of them. Otherwise you risk losing a chance for redemption."

Guy gasped audibly. "Why should I let them live?" He looked at the priest with narrowed eyes. "What did my father tell you, of course, if you are not lying?"

"I am a man of God, and I am not lying," the priest stated sourly, feeling offended by Guy's words. His eyes moved, and somehow this was more awful even than his steady, funeral voice that spoke the unknown truths to Guy. "You have no reason to hate Sir Robin." He blessed himself with the cross. "I said more than I could. May God forgive me for telling you some really unsettling and confusing things, but I cannot reveal anything else to you – I can only warn you."

"Thank you for confusing me with your words." Guy was frustrated, but his voice was sharp.

"_Guy, don't raise your sword against King Richard and Robin Hood – remember my words_," the priest said insistently. "_And if it is God's will, then one day you will learn the truth_."

"Thank you." Guy frowned at the old man, his gaze unkind.

The priest blessed himself with the cross. "Peace be with you, my son. I will pray for your soul."

Guy didn't feel relieved as he walked out of the old church. Dawn broke over the forest in a distance, its tender rays caressing Guy's face and glinting on the fall of raven hair that hung over his ears and forehead. He rubbed the back of his neck, inhaling sharply of the early morning mist in an effort to shake off the old memories that stirred in his heart after the conversation with the priest.

He swallowed the bitter lump in his throat. His meeting with the priest was a nightmare, choking him with how real it seemed. The priest brought something strange to his attention, but he didn't say anything else. Only one thought managed to shine clear in the muddled mess of his brain – that the priest knew something about Roger of Gisborne. He couldn't help but acknowledge that he was interested in his father's confession to the priest, but he also didn't want to believe that Roger had done something bad to Malcolm and Robin, the two people whom he hated since his childhood.

Clenching his jaw, Guy climbed into the saddle and set his horse in a full gallop. He had to get away from the church and the priest who awoke so many unpleasant memories in his mind. He didn't want to believe the priest, but there was a part of his heart that told him that the old man's words were extremely important, as if they could unlock the mystery of the greatest tragedy of Guy's life.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed the prologue.<em>

_This is the prologue to the second part of my long epic._

_In Acre, Robin and his friends are desperately trying to thwart the attempts of the Black Knights to assassinate King Richard. They are using a new method of conducting reconnaissance in disguise. I used the plan of ancient Acre when I wrote the first part of the prologue about Robin._

_In Nottingham, Guy is plagued by the nightmares, for his conscience is troubled with the fact that he serves the Sheriff. The priest warns Guy about the mysterious triangle Robin/King Richard/Guy, but, of course, he can tell Guy nothing about the true relationship between Robin, Guy and Richard. _

_For your info, the Saracens called him Melek-Ric or Malek al-Inkitar – the King of England._

_There are many shocking and original twists in the second part of the long epic. This part is more dramatic and emotional than the first part. I hope your journey into the world of Robin Hood and his friends with this long story/novel will be pleasant and interesting._

_By the way, one of the fans of my stories about Robin Hood created a wonderful photo album. This person wished to remain anonymous, and I respect this wish. I heartily thank this person for wonderful photos. The links for access to the photo album is given on my profile page._

**_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you for reading the prologue._**

_Yours faithfully, Amaranthe Athénaïs_


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Checkmate**

Thinking that he had to court his young bride for decency's sake, Robin of Locksley invited Lady Melisende Plantagenet on the ride along the seacoast. Surrounded by ten guards, Robin and Melisende guided their white stallions through the yellow sandy dunes, digging their spurs into the flanks of the animals and moving in the direction of the shore.

Neither Melisende nor Robin liked the idea of being accompanied and watched by so many guards, but they could do nothing, for it was King Richard's order that Robin and Melisende should have always been protected, and Robin would have never risked making the King angry, especially by foolishly exposing the King's cousin to various dangers and threats in the Holy Land.

Robin enjoyed their ride along the coastline. It was the time of the day when the blazing orange sun was just sinking below the dark line of the horizon. In a distance, the sweet, melancholy notes of the warm weather floated on the sea air which already carried a hint of spring. He loved this melancholy hour when the sun departed from one world to seek another and the daytime noises died away one by one. The water in the sea became smooth as glass and the sky put on fabulous colors. It was always a particularly melancholic and precious time for Robin, but tonight there was something unusual, almost enchanting about it, something out of the ordinary; maybe it was so because he was not alone riding along the coast tonight, he mused.

Robin looked at Melisende and a smile lit up his face; she was beautiful, in her orange gown with a low neckline and airy sleeves, which perfectly matched her long, copper-colored hair. The last rays of sunset were gleaming on the water. Melisende's red-gold hair shone like sunset clouds, and the rays of the sinking sun sparkled on the golden embroidery of her orange gown.

"I am glad that you took the life of Robert de Sablé," Melisende said sincerely. "He deserved to die for his crimes exactly in a way you killed him."

Robin was amazed. "You approve that I beheaded him in an outburst of anger?"

She smiled at him. "I do support what you did."

He arched a brow. "Really?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "Grand Master de Sablé was a despicable traitor who tried to kill Richard and you! He deserved a brutal, cruel death!" Curiously, her smile lost none of its warmth at her last words; she wasn't scared of him and didn't accuse him of being cruel and bloodthirsty – instead she understood him. "Thanks to God that you were unscratched in the fight with that traitor."

Robin's face split in a mischievous grin. "You are concerned about my fate, Melisende?"

"I don't wish my betrothed to be killed by a foul traitor."

"I think you are lying now. You are terrified of the very idea of my death," he said straightforwardly.

"Fear of death is one thing," she said quietly, smiling enigmatically. "Politics and political unions are another thing."

"What exactly do you want to say?"

"Our marriage is a gift of loyalty to Richard, from our hearts, and I am conscious of how worthy it is. I wish we could be married and bring peace to my county and relief to Richard, for our marriage will ensure the loyalty of so many nobles to him."

Robin's laugh held real amusement. "I begin to think our beloved King would be well advised by me and very soon to do something with you! You are a great liar if you want to lie."

She scoffed. "You think I am lying?"

"Of course," he spelled out slowly. "I know that you are concerned about my fate, not only politics."

"Perhaps." She smiled enigmatically.

"Not perhaps – for sure," Robin said insistently.

Melisende looked at Robin, smiling with an enticing smile. "Why are you marrying me?" She turned her gaze at her right hand, her eyes taking in the gorgeous diamond three-stone framed ring set with a round diamond center stone and bezel-set side stones surrounded with five small amethysts. She loved her engagement ring Robin gave her on the day when he proposed to her almost three months ago.

Despite still having doubts about his marriage to Melisende, Robin suddenly felt that his life became very simple. He said farewell to his old life, to the old world which, bound in its cruel and treacherous framework of Marian's betrayal and his ruined dreams, could offer him nothing but a narrow, limited existence and endless, unbearable pain. But now he felt curiously lighthearted, with the sense of release that often came when a difficult decision was made.

Robin raised a quizzical eyebrow. "And why should I not want to marry you?"

She opened her mouth but no sound came out, as if she wanted to say something, but she decided against that. Then she shook her head. "Oh, I see. Out of loyalty to Richard."

Robin turned his gaze at her, a wry smile on his lips. "I am surprised that you think so. You have many great qualities that make you a valuable match for everyone. You are a dream bride."

She laughed. "Ah, of course, I have forgotten! What a fool I am!" she exclaimed. "I am King Richard's cousin. I have the blood of the Plantagenets in my veins. And my husband will become Count de Bordeaux through his marriage to me; he will also receive many lands and manors," she said spitefully. She knew that it was not in Robin's manner to do something for his own advantage, but she liked challenging him and teasing him in any way she found possible.

"I thought that you knew: Robin Hood doesn't need money and titles for happiness."

"Oh, indeed. I am sorry."

"You don't cease to amuse me, Lady Melisende."

"I am glad to hear this."

Robin eyed her sternly. "If you don't want to marry me, then tell me about that."

"Do all people marry whom they like?" She chuckled. "I am the King's cousin, and I don't have a free will in the matters of marriage. Everything personal always comes with political in my life."

Gazing into a distance, Robin watched twittering seabirds flying over the vast sea expanse; he enjoyed the picture of the fragile peace of the moment. "King Richard loves you. He will never force you to marry an unworthy man. And he will never force you to marry a man whom you detest and dislike, even if he needs this marriage for England."

"_You are wrong, milord. You idealize Richard_," Melisende objected. "Richard is my cousin and he loves me, but he is the King of England in the first place. He will make me marry anyone if it suits England's interests and his own purposes. My personal interests and wishes go behind Richard's political needs."

"Lady Melisende, our King has a soft spot for you, like for Princess Joan."

Melisende looked away. For all the beauty of the evening, her heart felt heavy, lonely and sad. She never objected marrying Robin, out of all King Richard's loyal and high-ranking noblemen, but she believed that he had never wanted their marriage. "Anyway, Richard wants to marry me off to you, Huntington. He made it pretty clear to me several months ago. I don't want to disappoint him, and I will obey Richard, my cousin and my sovereign."

"You will obey? Is that the only reason why you agreed to marry me?"

"We don't want to disappoint the King, for you and I love him dearly."

"I love King Richard as my King and friend, but my deep affection for him will not prevent me from breaking our betrothal if you are forced to enter into matrimony with me."

She shook her head. "I am not forced."

Robin tightened his reins and rode to Melisende. As he reached her, she stopped her horse and looked at him with silent question in her eyes. "My lady, if you don't want to marry me, tell Richard about that. He will listen to you, and if he doesn't want to listen, I will make him listen."

"I thought that my cousin would marry me off to the Earl of Leicester, but I don't mind being married to you, Huntington."

"Alas!" Robin exclaimed, as if speaking to himself in a fit of intense grief. "Finally, I know the truth. If you want to marry Leicester, I will help you to have him as your fiancé."

"No, I don't want to marry the Earl of Leicester," she murmured, her cheeks blushing, her voice barely audible, but he distinguished her words. "I pray you, milord, won't say anything else on the matter. Richard wants us to marry, I agreed, and you don't object."

Robin smiled with his most charming smile. "As you wish." He nodded, his finger tracing, almost tenderly, his reins. "_But I want you to know that I wouldn't have married you for all the riches of the world and even out of my loyalty to my King if I myself hadn't wanted that_."

"Really?" she asked, instinctively keeping her voice low.

"Yes," he replied briskly.

"That's an unexpected statement."

"As it is," he said.

"I am amazed, my dear Earl of Huntington."

"You should not be, my precious Countess de Bordeaux."

Robin urged his horse tearing his sides with his spurs, and she followed him. The guards were not far from them, clustered around the betrothed couple – their Captain and the King's cousin. They continued riding along the coastline, looking at a chain of islands colored green and amethyst in the light of the setting sun.

"You don't have to court me, Lord Huntington," Melisende said coolly, with a touch of sneer.

Robin smiled a little sadly, at his betrothed. "I thought we agreed that you would call me Robin. Or do you dislike my name so much that you cannot pronounce it?"

"Yes, we agreed." She smiled. "And I like your name."

"Then why aren't you doing that?"

"To tease you, Robin."

He chuckled. "Ah, I see, I see."

She spurred her horse forward and began to descend the sandy hill. "Huntington, don't pretend that you want to marry me and that you are willingly courting me. You are courting me because it would be better for _your_ reputation."

"_Our _reputation, my lady," Robin pointed out, his tone formal.

Melisende began to laugh. "Well, if you are courting me with such pleasure, Lord Huntington, then carry me off to the ends of the world." She burst into a laugher. "We will love one another till our dying day. I will give you sons as brave and impudent as you are; I will give you daughters as witty and beautiful as I am. I will love you so much! Marry me tomorrow, if not right now, and let's run away from Acre!"

He glanced at her, grinning wickedly. "Yeah, you want to mock me and what I am doing, but your eyes don't cease to speak a language different from the language of your lips."

She laughed aloud, her melodic laugher, with French notes, ringing in the hot air, but he could see that she was tempted by her own offer. He was secretly pleased that she had some affection for him. Their marriage was an arranged union of political nature, but at least they were not disgusted with the mere sight of the other; on the contrary, they were attracted to one another.

"I appear to be hazarding to say absurd things, do I not? Such madness! Pure madness! Maybe it is the sun that made me lose my sanity?" She looked away, at the sea in a distance.

Robin's eyes twinkled in mischief. He knew that she was embarrassed, but she managed to mask her true feelings so well. Their unforgettable encounters, with their official pomposity in public and their bickering and teasing in privacy entertained Robin very much.

"If I asked you for a proof of some affection you have for me, would you tell me the truth?"

"Oh, no! I cannot possess affection for a braggart like you!" she gave an exclamation of feigned offence. "Pray keep yourself hoping for my affection, milord, but be aware that my heart is too small to accommodate any feeling for such a great hero and his big ego."

The sky deepened to mauve, and Robin watched boats move sedately out the harbor of Acre towards the open sea, like a stately procession crowned with a snatch of song borne on the freshening breeze.

"You know something… God help any man who falls in love with you, Lady Melisende. He would have to deal with a beautiful woman with a soul of a lioness," he retorted.

"Oh! I have nothing to wish for in the world. I am satisfied with my life," she said steadily, gazing into the blue expanse of the sea. "I have enjoyed in this life all the happiness I am meant for."

"Oh, no, no, my lady!" he cried out mockingly, parodying her manner. "Your happiness is the matter of tomorrow and forever. The future is yours."

Melisende looked at Robin, a strange smile on her lips. Suddenly, a crazy idea came to her, born of the sight of an empty coast. She spurred her horse and galloped away from Robin, into a distance, ignoring Robin's cries and pleas to wait for him and the guards. She could see only the blue seashore and could distinguish the voices of Robin and the guards far away.

"If you continue demonstrating your foolish headstrongness, I will forbid you riding as soon as we are married," she heard the familiar voice speak harshly near her. It was Robin.

Melisende turned her head, and her eyes met Robin's cold gaze. "Great God! You are already here!" She looked around and saw the other guards quickly catching up with them.

"Yes, I am here; the guards are almost here. It wasn't difficult to find you."

"Oh, there is nothing difficult for Robin Hood," she teased him.

He resumed all his coolness at the sight of her smug face. "Not a long time ago, King Richard ordered me to never leave the camp alone in order not to become the unfortunate victim of our enemies. It may be dangerous here, and I will never let you get yourself killed in the desert."

She grinned at him. "When did you stop disregarding Richard's orders, Robin? I have heard a lot about your behavior in the Private Guard – you often change decisions, suddenly and arbitrarily. And you are one of the few knights who can go against Richard's orders."

Robin laughed. "Well… I see you know so much about me."

"You could have been executed for insubordination many more times than I have hair on my head."

"Well, but I am still alive," he said with an arrogant smile, "Because I am Robin Hood."

She laughed at him. "Oh, you are very arrogant! But I will correct you – because Richard needs you and loves you, not because you are Robin Hood."

"Oh," he breathed. "But you don't know one important thing: I rarely risk myself in vain and when I am not sure that I will survive, unless I have to save the King."

Melisende rode to him and stopped her horse near his. "Robin," she called him. She pronounced his name in her softest and most honeyed tones.

Robin looked at her, his expression curious. "What?"

"I didn't want to scare you," she answered in the same gentle and soft tone. "I am sorry."

"You are very gallant, Lady Melisende," he said with a smile on his face.

"You are smiling."

"Do you wish me to weep?"

"No, but I want to see you a little more melancholic."

Robin took in her beautiful face; he gazed at her with infinite sadness in his eyes. "I have been in melancholy for so long. Now I think I may well regard it as a debt discharged." Then his face recovered all his usual liveliness and smugness. "Besides, melancholy makes people look so plain. I hate looking plain."

She gave him a searching look, but found nothing on his face, only the familiar indifference and coldness in his blue eyes. "You can never look plain, Robin."

"Really?" He chuckled.

"Robin, don't angle for compliments!"

Robin raised his eyes and looked at the sky, his eyes taking in the large arrow-headed clouds, the sky darker and darker with every minute. "It is time to return to the camp. It is getting dark." He gave her a conspiratorial glance and winked at her. "Let's ride to the camp surrounded by guards as though they had arrested us and we had been heavily guarded on the way to our prison."

Melisende smiled at him. "I like your jokes, Robin. Maybe my marriage to you, an impudent cheeky rogue, will be the happiest day of my whole life," she said in a jeering tone.

Robin looked away. He knew that she was trying to entertain them, but he couldn't think about the wedding day; every time he remembered about his upcoming nuptials he felt that the gulf was inexorably widening between him and Marian. He caught a glimpse of disappointment on Melisende's face before her face turned blank, and he felt guilty; it was not her fault, but only his fault.

Robin turned to her and flashed a sad smile. "I am sorry," he said softly. His eyes strayed from Melisende to a golden pathway straight into the setting sun.

"Robin, don't apologize, I implore you!" Melisende cried out, laughing.

He tightened the reins and set off at a gallop, signaling Melisende and the guards to follow him. They rode so quickly that the noise of horses wasn't muffled even by the sand. The thunderous beat of galloping hoofbeats grew louder as Robin spurred his horse over and over again.

Robin heard the cries of the guards behind him, urging him to wait for them, but he ignored them. He saw that Melisende rose near him, their stallions moving almost in unison, and they both were soaring like flashes of lightning in the air. They rode at the same speed, paying no attention to anyone and even to themselves, until they reached the walls of Acre, heading to the Citadel of Acre where Melisende stayed together with Count Henry de Champagne and his wife Lady Isabella of Jerusalem.

§§§

A May day was warm, bright, and sunny, but an almost palpable uneasiness hung over the town of Nottingham. As Guy of Gisborne and his guards in black-and-yellow uniform were riding through the narrow, dirty streets in the direction of the Castle of Nottingham, Guy could see many beggars lining the street, many of them abnormally thin, their eyes hungry and desperate. Guy was on his way to the castle after he had collected taxes in Clun.

The majority of the beggars stood begging with an outstretched hand, their palms open in an attempt to attract attention of wealthy townspeople who could have given them a coin or two. Some of the beggars offered black market goods or services in exchange for a little money to buy some bread, others merely pleaded for a few copper pieces or a piece of bread to get them through just one day. After Robin Hood's departure from Nottingham to the Holy Land, Sheriff Vaisey resumed his usual course of running the town: the oppression of the population continued and the living conditions became almost unbearable.

Sitting on his black stallion, Guy eyed the beggars. The miserable picture of the hungry and ragged people tugged at Guy's heart, but he didn't dip his hand into his purse to throw some coins to them. Instead, he felt a tart feeling of self-loathing and self-hatred rising in his low throat. His inner turmoil kept him from paying much attention to the ragged populace, but his expression was openly shocked for an instant; before he masked it with coldness and nonchalance, Allan had managed to see it, and even without verbal interaction with his right-hand man, Guy knew deep in his bones that Allan had guessed his master's real feelings and had possibly read his thoughts.

Guy heard some of the beggars whispering his name, and the myriad of emotions flooded him – self-loathing swept up to grip his throat, and he swallowed hard against it, battling for control. As soon as Guy and his men reached them, the beggars automatically recoiled from them in fear, as if the Sheriff's henchman and his escort party were lepers. Guy cringed at the thought that his mere appearance had such a frightening effect on the people; earlier he would have been happy, but now only sadness filled his heart as he contemplated his surroundings.

Guy thought longingly about the old days – about the time before his banishment from Locksley. He could easily remember the crowded marketplace as the market thrived and many peasants came there to sell the excess of products that their household hadn't consumed in a particular period. Now the marketplace was empty and the trade no longer existed because the peasants had no money to pay taxes and were barely able to feed themselves. More than seven years ago, when Vaisey and Guy arrived in Nottingham, the market still thrived and the trade was active. Presently, the present economic situation in Nottingham was radically different from that in the old times.

With great reluctance, Guy admitted that Robin of Locksley had been partly right stating that the market had been deserted by the peasants at the Council of Nobles, which he had attended immediately after his return from the Crusades. Robin had insisted that the taxes must have been eliminated to improve the living conditions of the peasants and boost the economy of the town; Guy laughed at the ideas of his sworn enemy. Yet, now he was ready to agree with Robin: if there was at least some hope for the brighter future for the people of Nottinghamshire, the taxes must have been significantly lowered at least for a while.

They rode through another narrow street when Guy raised his head and looked up at the sky, but could see little of it. The dilapidated buildings to either side of the street leaned together so that they almost blocked out the sunlight completely. It was probably for the best, Guy decided bitterly, for his mood was grim and he was unable to think about anything bright and happy. Moreover, the streets were full of garbage because the Sheriff didn't allocate enough funds to cover the expenses of the transportation of garbage from the town to its suburbs; there was a risk that too much direct sun would make the garbage stink worse than it had already done.

As they turned to another street, heading to the Castle of Nottingham, the picture before their eyes drew grasps of amazement and disbelief from Guy, Allan, and the others. There was the crowd of beggars that blocked the road as the people moved in the direction of the central square. There were some children mingled in the crowd, who wept and cried.

Guy shuddered in horror mingled with disgust. He could see a thin boy four years of age, seated with legs dangling, upon the shoulders of his father, crying and begging his father for a piece of bread. Guy could also see several mothers crouching in the mud as they raised their children and hurried to free the road for Guy and his men.

There was a bard in the crowd, who was singing the song about Robin Hood and his band, honoring the outlaws and imploring them to return to Nottingham. The sound of Robin Hood's name awoke a sheer hatred in Guy's heart, and his stomach twisted in knots, but the same feeling was quickly replaced by disgust for himself and hatred for Vaisey whose brutal authority was the reason for hunger in the town.

Guy knew that those people hated him, and it made him ashamed of himself. Robin Hood wasn't in Nottingham and couldn't save anyone, but what mattered was that the people consisted of cripples, thieves, and beggars. At that moment, he half wished that Hood returned and started feeding the people again; he was also relieved that the peasants who lived on the lands owned by Robin were able to enjoy the grace period and didn't pay taxes for a year, which infuriated Vaisey to the core.

"Make way for Sir Guy of Gisborne!" Allan commanded.

A wild fit of laughter took possession of one of the beggars, who, without caring for Allan's words, shouted boldly, "And maybe Guy of Gisborne will help his countrymen survive?"

A hush fell over the crowd. And then someone began to whine in a doleful way, half closing his eyes and begging for money. "Charity, please, Sir Guy! Charity, please! Help us!"

The shouts of the beggars made Guy shudder; he was utterly shocked and highly displeased. On recovering from his first stupefaction, he planned to order to arrest the beggars and stared at Allan with cold, resolute eyes, but then something snapped inside his heart. Instead, his hand touched his purse that hung on his waist; spurring his horse, he reached Allan and gave him the purse.

"Allan, take it and gave it to these people," Guy instructed quietly. "But you should do it when the guards and I will go ahead. The Sheriff shouldn't know about that." As he said that, the feelings of joy and triumph stirred somewhere in the depths of his heart, but they were mingled with bitterness, for he couldn't have done that openly in fear that Vaisey would learn about his charity.

Allan winked at Guy. "Certainly I will do that, and heartily."

Guy nodded and pulled his reins. "Make way for me and my men! Make way for us!" He gave his men commands to clear the road if the crowd didn't disperse. Then, without even deigning to cast a glance upon the beggars, he spurred his black stallion and rode ahead, followed by his guards.

Allan didn't follow Guy and the others. Instead, he dismounted and started distributing the coins from the purse, enjoying the looks of shock and astonishment on the people's faces.

Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd as they heard the sounds of the approaching horses. Next moment, Roger de Lacy and his men emerged from the nearby street; there was a cart full of bread and other meals was driven by the old horse. De Lacy's men dismounted and started unloading the cart and giving the food to the townspeople; they also distributed coins and fresh water. Meanwhile, the rabble applauded with shouts of laughter.

Seeing that the tumult was increasing around him, Allan decided that it was a good time to disappear and ride to the castle. He had already distributed the coins given him by Guy, and he couldn't stay there more, for Guy was waiting for him at the castle. Roger de Lacy eyed Allan suspiciously, but then his gaze revealed amazement as he saw an empty purse in Allan's hands. Allan raised his hand to salute de Lacy and then set his horse in a full gallop, heading to the castle.

While Allan rode to the castle, Guy was already having a private audience with Sheriff Vaisey. Guy stood near the desk and watched Vaisey pacing the chamber up and down, absorbed deeply in thoughts, clutching the unrolled parchment in one hand. For a long time, Vaisey paced back and forth before a window in his study room at the Castle of Nottingham. After two or three steps, he paused and threw open the wooden shutters, looking outside at the town of Nottingham. Restlessly clasping his hands behind his back, he stood somber and serious, looking at the central square before the castle and running his eyes over the whole town. As the study room was located in the tower, Vaisey saw the town from that vantage quite well.

Guy watched the Sheriff's small black figure, trying to guess the reasons for his master's unexpected anxiety. In the past few days, Vaisey was unusually contemplative and thoughtful, almost always absorbed in his thoughts. The Sheriff often summoned Guy in his study room and asked him trivial questions about the collection of taxes in Nottinghamshire. With sickening feeling of dread and apprehension, Guy thought that Vaisey's calm demeanor was strange; today everything changed, and calmness was replaced by tense anxiety.

Vaisey's small figure in black looked especially unusual against the background of the white walls adorned with flower engravings, which was the Sheriff's recent innovation he introduced to make the atmosphere in the chamber for his caged birds happier and merrier, as he told Guy. Guy barely suppressed his sneer, for the Sheriff had a strange attitude towards his birds.

The Sheriff turned slowly to face his henchman. Unclasping his hands, he ran his fingers through his silver hair. "_Gisborne, I care for you, my boy_," he said in a warm, silken tone. "_I want us to be together, in a precious and life-long partnership. I want to share laurel wreaths with you – power beyond measure_." He slowly walked to Guy. He stared at the raven-haired younger man for a long moment in silence, and then he put his arms on Guy's shoulders. "_We will win this game together. We will always be together, like a father and a son_."

Guy was shocked with the intensity of Vaisey's gaze. The Sheriff's eyes were ablaze with the hellish fire, and Guy felt as if he were burning in the flames of hellfire at those agonizing moments, only in inches from being swallowed by the demons from hell; for a great sheet of imaginary flame passed over him and he instinctively took a step back. The heat emanating from the Sheriff nearly burned the black leather, and he knew that there was no help to deal with the fire of such intensity.

"Yes, my lord," Gisborne was able to say at last.

Feverish desperation swept over Guy at the thought that the Sheriff was preparing for something utterly important for the future. Guy felt pinned to the ground with shock at the realization that the Sheriff's calmness and today's anxiety could have been explained by the fact that Vaisey's cunning mind was inventing a crafty plan to kill King Richard and Robin Hood. A growl almost ripped from his throat at the thought that they were probably supposed to travel to the Holy Land again.

Next moment, the Sheriff confirmed Guy's thoughts; Vaisey stopped near Guy. "Gisborne, we are departing to the Holy Land in several days," he declared bluntly. "You and Allan are going with me."

Guy felt his heart swelling with pure fear. He feared to go to the Holy Land and face Robin Hood. He feared that they would fail to assassinate the King. He feared that he would be unable to kill the King and would hesitate, like it happened in the royal tent when he stood above the King's sleeping form indecisive to strike a fatal blow, which was interrupted by Robin's sudden appearance. Guy felt as if he were drowning in the sea of mortal sins. Amusingly, he also didn't want to kill the King, but he was like a wild animal trapped by the Sheriff in a golden cage.

Having regained his composure, Guy only blinked as if in surprise, startled with so many events happening all at once. "Did the Hashashin fail to kill King Richard and Robin Hood?" He doubted that it had happened, especially when he remembered that Prince John's current mistress – Lady Amicia de Beaumont – was King Richard's secret spy.

"We don't know, but Prince John wants us to travel to the Holy Land. The Prince fears that Hood will stop the Hashashin, so that he wants us to go to Acre and kill his brother. Well, Hood was heroic in the recent bloody battle with the army of Saracens hired by the Black Knights."

Guy was confused. "What?"

"Our friends – Buckingham, Rotherham, Durham, and Spenser – had a long and disastrous journey to the Holy Land. They organized a massacre in the King's camp several months ago," Vaisey informed. "It is the reason why we didn't see them for many months."

"The last meeting of the Black Knights took place six months ago – in December in London," Guy said, struggling to put the notes of displeasure out of his voice. "As now it is May, then they should have left for Acre immediately after the meeting if they have already returned to England."

"They departed to Acre in two days after the meeting."

"Prince John didn't tell us about that." Guy didn't like that he knew nothing about the matter.

"I knew and it is enough, my boy."

Guy seethed with anger inside. "I didn't know."

"Don't be offended, my boy! I told you nothing because I knew that they would fail; Lord Sheridan said the same. We told Prince John that it was a bad idea, but he didn't listen to us." Vaisey sniggered. "_The Prince wanted the Lionheart to be known as the massacred Weaklingheart, the massacred King_."

"Did they come close to the camp?"

"They did, but only thanks to the chaos in the camp and the treachery of three Crusaders. Well, you remember them from last time, Gisborne. All of them stood near the King and almost killed him, but Hood, Blondie, Leicester, and Hood's annoying manservant interfered and saved the King."

"Now I understand why Prince John demands more and more taxes."

"Exactly, Gizzy! It is a luxury to hire an army of Saracen mercenaries."

"And what happened there?" Guy asked.

With a large smile, Vaisey proceeded to a long tale about the massacre in the King's camp.

The Sheriff laughed. "Oh, it was a real massacre. The battle was inside the King's tent and later near the tent, which was surrounded by the Crusaders to protect the King." He whistled. "Mmmm… Spenser complained that they stood waist-deep in blood. But I think this was… so good." He loved bloodshed so much; his wicked heart pounded harder as he imagined the massacre.

"Are they still alive?"

"Durham and Buckingham were unscratched. Spenser was wounded by Hood; on the way from Acre, he was trashing in fever for… about two weeks, I don't know for sure how long," Vaisey informed. "Rotherham was seriously injured by another Crusader, in his side or his chest; he contracted a fever, too, and lost much blood; he was so bad that our friends feared that he would die. Buckingham and Durham nursed Rotherham as a child throughout all the three months they spent on the ship; they took a direct route from Acre to Portsmouth through the Pillars of Hercules."

"Did Rotherham survive, my lord?"

"Yes, he did. Now Rotherham is in one of his estates. He is still recovering and has problems… with his lungs, for the blade pierced his right lung. He is spending all the time in a bed." The Sheriff's eyes glistened. "I would love to see how our… pretty friend Robin Hood behaved during the massacre. Spenser adored Hood's swordplay and said that our little… Hooddie was exceptional and killed everyone on his way."

Guy didn't wish to talk about Hood. "But they failed."

"Yes, Gisborne! And now we will carry out our plan! Isn't it good, hmm?" Vaisey grinned merrily. "We will kill the lion and will make Prince John happy and grateful."

"Yes, my lord," Guy said automatically.

"But there is one problem."

"What?"

"Prince John also wants us to take his personal assassin to kill King Richard and Robin Hood." Vaisey gave a derisive snort. "The assassin has such a funny name! Archer! Archer!" He broke into a loud laugh. "He will join us in Portsmouth."

"Oh! We don't need him!"

"We cannot disregard Prince John's order," the Sheriff said sadly, his mind plotting. "But we will kill King Richard without anyone's help. And you, my boy, should concentrate and help me kill the King. This hired assassin, Archer, must be left out of our business, though we are taking him with us because it is Prince John's order." He clapped his hands. "Soon the lion shall roar in pain! His blood will be hot and stick on my hands! The lion's blood and pain will bring us our great fortune."

The man in black leather flushed to the roots of his black hair. "Our fortune?"

"Gisborne, focus on your fortune in the first place. You have lost Hood's lands, and you have all the more reason to fight for the King's death. Try and avenge your dispossession."

"Yes, milord," Guy said, acquiescing with a sort of disgruntled nod.

The Sheriff smiled. "My boy, I want us to kill the pitiful King Richard together. We will glorify the day when the King is dead."

Guy nodded, then swallowed hard. "As you wish, my lord."

§§§

At the same time, disguised as the Nightwatchman, Marian quickly ascended the staircase, heading to her bedchamber at the castle to hide herself from the Sheriff's guards. She could hardly breathe, her heartbeat jolted into double time. She had never been more frightened in her whole life. She looked around and let out a small sigh of relief as she saw no guards there. She turned round the corner and made her way through the long corridor towards her and Guy's room.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her. She rushed ahead, but stumbled into two guards, who were confused at first and then gave an exclamation of surprise, followed by a cry of delight that they had found the Nightwatchman. The guards grabbed her, and she struggled to free herself from their hold; she kicked out one of them into his belly, but two more guards threw themselves at her. She started struggling more violently, beating and punching the guards, but she was not able to get rid of them as the Sheriff's men held her firmly and, to better to immobilize her, grabbed both her legs.

"We have found the Nightwatchman! We found him!" the guards screamed, overjoyed.

Marian cursed in her mind. Less than an hour ago, she tried to save the villagers who were arrested by Vaisey and Gisborne in the recent fight on the central square of Nottingham. Breaking her word she had given to Guy, she disguised herself as the Nightwatchman and sneaked into the dungeons and tried to free the villagers. She desperately wished to save the people from the terrible fate: to be sold to Finn MacMurrough, a rude Irishman who wanted to recruit the villagers into an army he planned to use to free Ireland, so as he himself could rule Ireland later.

But Marian was discovered by Allan, who advised her to run away as quickly as her legs carried her. Then the worst thing happened when one of the Sheriff's guards roared that they had found the Nightwatchman and commanded the guards to detain Marian. She fought fiercely with her captors, and by miracle she managed to leave the area of the dungeons, climbing upstairs and then passing the corridor, running towards her bedchamber. Yet, she was spotted by several more guards, and then she was surrounded and trapped.

"Silence! Silence!" Guy thundered as he appeared in the corridor and stopped near the Nightwatchman and the guards. He turned away from Marian and looked at the three guards who stood confused, staring with wide eyes at their patron in anticipation to hear the orders of their master.

Marian's eyes locked with Guy's blue orbs darkened in anger; she turned her head and met Allan's horror-stricken gaze. Her heart was beating so fast that she thought it would explode in her basque.

"Sir Guy, we detained the criminal," one of the man boasted. "Let's see what we have here."

"Should we take him to the dungeons?" another guard asked.

One of the guards unmasked Marian, and the other guards gasped in shock.

"Guy! Guy!" Marian didn't know why she said that; the words just came out of her mouth.

The guards stared at the Nightwatchman as they recognized Guy's wife in the night hero.

"Sir Guy…" The young guard looked horrified.

"Sir Guy… this is Lady Marian…" another guard muttered.

"Blimey…" Allan stumbled with words.

Guy looked between the shocked Marian and the astonished faces of his guards. "You stay here," he said to the guards, his eyes darting to Allan. "Allan, take her to our room and wait there," he ordered.

Shocked and almost numb, Allan nodded in agreement. Marian felt Guy's strong arms wrapping around her waist. Those arms took her away from the guards and passed her to the pair of other arms – Allan's arms. Then Allan began dragging Marian away. Marian tossed her head around and looked back; she saw Guy reaching for his men and plunging his curved dagger into the neck of one guard, into the stomach of another one and then into the chest of the third guard. She heard their groans and screams of horror that their master had become their murderer.

"What… what is he doing?" Marian stammered.

"He is saving you, Marian," Allan muttered under his breath.

"Oh my Lord!" Marian whispered in horror. The realization dawned upon her that Guy had killed his own men for her to prevent the Sheriff from discovering the true identity of the Nightwatchman.

Allan continued dragging her towards her bedchamber as if she were a sack of corn. She didn't resist and was so silent that Allan thought she lost her conscience. Allan took her in his arms and opened the door of the bedchamber. Then he went inside and gently put Marian on the bed.

Guy stood over the bodies of three guards, staring at them with dead eyes. He held the bloodied dagger he had killed his men with in his hand. Sunlight gleamed on the dagger like the scales of a snake. The men's uniforms were soaked with blood; the stone floor was slick with blood. Guy shook his head, and panic rose in his soul as he remembered that he had to leave the place of the crime. He moved not like a ghost but like a fury as he strode towards the bedchamber he shared with Marian.

Guy opened the door quietly and slid inside as noiselessly as a cat. Three strides took him to the bed and he stood beside Allan, his face pale and shocked. Then Guy went to Marian and started undressing her. Marian's cheeks flamed darkly at the naked anger in her husband's face.

"Turn around! Don't look at her!" Guy screamed at Allan, who hurried to obey.

"Guy, please… Guy…" Marian begged him, struggling with him.

"Stop fighting with me!" Guy shrilled. He violently tore the mask from her face.

"Please… please…" Marian implored in despair.

Guy walked to Allan and threw the Nightwatchman's costume at Allan. "Allan, disguise yourself and play your role well. You know what to do."

Allan looked startled. "Guy, do you want me to play the Nightwatchman's escape?"

"Yes, do this, Allan, and hurry up. There is no time," Guy mumbled. His voice was tense and slightly shaking. "We will say that the criminal fled and killed three guards."

"Don't worry. I will do this," Allan agreed, feeling obliged to save Marian. He quickly started putting on the disguise.

"Allan, be very careful," Guy urged Allan.

Allan smiled. "I will."

After the massive door slammed shut behind Allan, Marian remained for a moment sitting dazedly on the bed and looking into the emptiness of the room.

It all occurred so quickly that she could hardly take in where she was or what had happened to her. She only knew that Guy had saved her and killed the Sheriff's guards for her sake. She was deeply touched with his courageous and sacrificing actions, though bloody and violent; she hadn't expected that he could have been so self-sacrificing only for her sake after he had killed Rebecca of Locksley's innocent son and arrested the villagers of Locksley and other people.

Guy gave her a wolfish glare. "_You betrayed your promise to me, Marian. You betrayed me again, and now I had to kill my own men to save you_."

She jumped from the bed and stood before him, her hands at her hips, shaking with anger. "I tried to persuade you to help the villagers, but you don't care for the people."

He gave her a murderous glare. "I cannot save all of them, you fool."

"I know that the Sheriff is selling our own villagers to raise more money for Prince John," Marian challenged Guy. "I cannot seat and watch that the people are sold like slaves."

"And I couldn't save these beggars by risking my own neck and your neck, too, but I also didn't need to save them," he retorted, shooting her a spiteful look.

"Of course," Marian told him flippantly, refusing to be baited into anger and sneering at him. "You couldn't save them for me because you are so loyal to the Sheriff."

Guy glared at her, his eyes narrowing warningly. "I said that I didn't need to save them."

She blinked. "Why?"

"Sir Roger de Lacy has become the new hero of the peasants," Guy commented dryly, his gaze never leaving her flushed face. "Lord de Lacy paid to Finn MacMurrough a huge sum of money, in pure gold; the Irishman departed from Nottingham to Provence to hire mercenaries there. The Sheriff is going to release the villagers soon."

A weight lifted from Marian's shoulders. "De Lacy did a right thing. And what about the increased taxes on mills and other taxes?"

"Marian, you heard _the Royal Proclamation _about the royal pardon of Robin Hood. The people, who live in the Earldom of Huntington and the village of Locksley, are exempted from all taxes for one calendar year, though I suppose the Sheriff will eventually have his way… somehow."

"And what about other people? In Clun, in Nettlestone, in other villages?"

Guy scowled. "All the others in Nottinghamshire don't have the luxury King Richard granted to Hood's peasants. Extremely high taxation suffocates the prosperity of the nobles, but all the lords in the shire pay nonetheless. The villagers also pay all the taxes."

"Guy, you must do something! There will be starvation!"

"It was already done."

"What?" She frowned.

"De Lacy distributed funds to the peasants in the name of King Richard's last birthday," Guy said with distaste. "It is a stupid thing to do because it is clear that de Lacy did that at Hood's request."

"Excellent!" Marian said with a laugh.

"I didn't tell the Sheriff that Roger de Lacy gave huge donations to the villagers; de Lacy was rather discreet, but my men reported to me about his actions."

Marian smiled. "Thank you, Guy."

"Are you pleased now?"

"You did a right thing that you allowed Lord de Lacy to give money to the people. And de Lacy is a clever man if he plays with the Sheriff within the law."

Guy laughed outright, but it seemed to Marian that there was something guarded in his laughter.

"Roger de Lacy is using Robin Hood's money, in fact King Richard's money," Guy barked. "And may I remind you that de Lacy has recently thrown us out of the Locksley Manor."

She quirked an eyebrow at him, worried. "Please don't tell me that you are going to kill de Lacy."

"No, the Sheriff didn't give me this order."

"Again the Sheriff!" she spat bitterly. "Why cannot you stand against him? When will you find enough strength to become your own man?"

"And what did I do for you today?" Guy asked in a steel voice.

"Guy, you have to understand. I had–"

"I am fed up with your explanations!" he roared. "Why are you so stubborn and so reckless?"

"I wasn't reckless!" she protested.

"Every time you go on the Nightwatchman's business something happens. You cannot deny that?"

Marian hung her head. "No, I cannot."

Guy emitted a heavy sigh. "At least here we are on the same page."

Marian and Guy froze as they heard Vaisey's yelling voice calling for Gisborne and the guards to catch the Nightwatchman. The blood drained from Marian's face as it came to her what was happening in the castle now; Allan was saving her, risking his life for her sake. She heard the screams of the guards and understood that the commotion escalated inside the castle. She felt ashamed of herself, her heart swelling with remorse for what she had unintentionally caused today.

She gazed at Guy in despair. "Guy, I am sorry that I brought additional danger on our necks."

"Shhh," Guy replied, holding up a gloved finger at Marian's lips. "You are a liar. I believed you, but you again betrayed me. Every day that I grew more and more to love you, you were mocking me. Every day I wanted to believe that we can be happy together, even after I learnt that you slept with Hood." Glaring into her eyes for a moment, he turned to go to the door. "But you betrayed me over and over again," he threw over his shoulder as he walked to the door.

"This is not true! This is not true!"

Guy paused and swung around to face her. "Don't take me for a fool! All your lies fit you. The way that you behaved with me, your little rides into the forest." He wagged his finger at her. "You were trusted here at the castle by all of us."

Marian lowered her head, looking at her fingernails. "I know."

"Every moment that I thought you were a wife and a friend to me, you were betraying me," he told her fervently. "Don't tell me about your father and the destroyed Knighton Hall! I defended you and even your father against the Sheriff countless times, more than you can imagine!"

"And I deceived the Sheriff to help the people," she said hotly. "And in so doing, I had to deceive you, and I am sorry for that. But is it such a crime to follow my heart?"

Guy approached her. His hands gripped her shoulders, and he looked down at her lovely face. "I love you, Marian," he said gruffly. "Whatever I do, I want to know that you are safe. That is why today I killed my own men. But I cannot always risk so much."

"You can turn against the Sheriff. You can–"

"Stop before you cross the line, Marian. We have already discussed that."

"Everything has a price, even a huge price. And everything is a choice," she retorted, glazing straight into his eyes. "You are siding with Vaisey on your own free will."

Stony silence was her only response. "Not everything is a choice," he said after a long pause.

"I kind of agree," she said. "We cannot choose what we feel."

Marian and Guy continued looking into each other's eyes, as if they were entranced. For long moments, they were oblivious of anything around them as they lost themselves in contemplating one another.

Marian prattled in her mind that if she could have chosen whom to love, she would have probably chosen Guy; but she could have been mistaken as Robin was always on her mind. There was always that "_probably_" in her mind, she always hesitated, and she cursed in her mind her own stupidity and confusion. It was a choice – not a chance – which determined destiny. Marian made her choices, but she still brooded over her past decisions, trapped in the old love triangle consisting of Robin, Guy, and herself. Maybe choices were questionable and could evolve. Perhaps not only choice could influence over her life, or maybe she did a wrong choice.

She stared at her wedding ring with an oval cut center diamond surrounded by five diamonds, but her mind drifted to the engagement rings Robin had given her twice when he proposed to her. When he proposed before his first departure to the Holy Land, Robin gave Marian an exquisite silver ring featuring the massive sapphire center carved in the shape of a flower and three small oval cut diamonds set around the sapphire; she fell passionately in love with that ring. The second ring was a beautiful engagement ring featuring a large oval cut emerald surrounded by a sunburst of diamonds; but it was large and rather eccentric, while she liked something more elegant and less extravagant.

She sighed, and her gaze wandered to Guy's wedding ring again on her index finger; she liked it a great deal, but there was no ring that could have ever compared to her sapphire engagement ring, which she threw right into Robin's face when he notified her about his decision to fight in the Holy Land. That ring was a precious work of art, an extraordinarily graceful and elegant piece of jewelry, which once belonged to Robin's mother; she especially liked that there was the massive sapphire center carved in the shape of a small flower. She wanted to learn about the fate of that ring, wondering whether Robin took it from the ground in the forest after she had thrown it into his face.

Unknown to her, Guy's train of thought followed Marian's. He mused that if he could have chosen not to love Marian, he could have been probably unable to do that. Even though Marian had been with Robin Hood, his sworn enemy, he considered that impossible to fall out of love with Marian; at least he wanted to think so because she was his only salvation from his demons and misery. He let out a sigh of frustration as he once again realized that his heart still belonged to Marian with the flashing sapphire blue eyes, challenging and seducing him, despite all her so-called betrayals. He wanted her full surrender to himself; he craved to make her forget about Robin of Locksley's existence. He prayed that one day she would come to love him as he loved her with all her heart.

Guy was the first to give in. He leaned forward and Marian flew into his embrace. He drew her to him and kissed her in her lips, fiercely and possessively. They clung to one another like two desperate children lost in a forbidding forest. Their lips met, hers softening and molding beneath the firm warmth of his. Their tongues touched and tangled in a mating dance that sent hot spears of desire darting through them both. Guy's hand tightened into her hair; his other hand was at the nape of her back.

Guy stared at her, his eyes darkened with passion. "When you are so close to me, I want to forget everything and everyone in the world."

She arched an eyebrow. "Even the Sheriff?"

Guy flinched under her intensive gaze. "Especially the Sheriff."

Marian looked at him, her eyes large and smoldering. "When you are sincere and kind and brave, I think I love you, Guy," she admitted, unexpectedly, even to herself.

His warm smile answered hers. "I love you, my Marian, more than anything and anyone in my life."

Guy pulled her closer to himself. Unable to resist the sweet lure of those lips, he gave a low groan and found her mouth with his. Hungrily he kissed her, surrendering himself to the driving, primitive emotions that suddenly flooded through him at the touch of his lips against hers.

Trapped by the restraining hands on her shoulders, Marian trembled from the force of the emotions that racked her as Guy's warm, questing tongue filled her mouth, the velvet length of it stroking seductively against her own tongue, blatantly inviting her to follow suit. Her head swimming, a curiously weak feeling creeping through her very bones, she swayed nearer to him, unconsciously offering herself to him, her lips helplessly parting even further before his demanding kiss.

The spell was broken by the Sheriff's loud scream of rage. Marian and Guy parted from one another.

Vaisey was beside himself with anger, shrieking and screaming and cursing hysterically. It seemed as if hearing his rancorous voice again had destroyed everything around Marian and Guy and held them motionless, for they froze for an instant, staring at each other. Then they heard the Sheriff's another scream and shuddered.

"His screams… like a wild beast howling," Marian commented.

"Very loud," Guy agreed. "He is very angry."

Guy marched to the door and opened it. He paused for instance moment, half turning to her and giving her a faint smile. The door thrust open by a masterful hand and Guy stepped outside the room.

§§§

In the corridor, Guy heard the familiar angry shouts louder, as well as sounds of the voices calling for the guards, and then the Sheriff's curses that the Nightwatchman had escaped and had killed his men. He laughed cynically, his voice thickening with emotion of his triumph over Vaisey that he had finally managed to outwit the crafty Sheriff and, most importantly, saved Marian.

"Gisborne! Gisborne! Where are you, idiot? Come along, come to me, you blithering oaf! You again failed me! You failed to capture the Nightwatchman!" Vaisey screamed, not wishing to contain his fury. "And now the Nightwatchman started killing my men!"

Guy encountered Vaisey near the staircase. "Milord, I am sorry, but what happened?"

"Gisborne, are you deaf? I called you, but you didn't answer!" the Sheriff accused, advancing towards Guy. "You failed to capture Robin Hood in Nottingham, but you also failed to capture Hood's accomplice, the Nightwatchman! But I still want the Nightwatchman and Hood's pretty little faces on their pretty little heads attached to their pretty little bodies on a pretty big spike outside my chamber!"

Guy looked at the Sheriff helplessly. "I will do everything I can, milord."

"You will fail, as always." Vaisey waved his head.

"Sire, I assure you that I will not fail next time," Guy protested. His pride was injured, but he was secretly pleased that he had outwitted the Sheriff.

"Gisborne, you have a visitor!" the Sheriff cried angrily.

"I will see him." Guy gave a curt nod, an answering spark in his own eyes.

Vaisey and Guy made their way downstairs, to the great hall. Guy ran his eyes across the vast area and gasped at the sight of his visitor, whom he acknowledged even from the back. It didn't matter that he didn't see her for so many years, for he could recognize the guest even in eternity.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," the lady said in sweetest tones.

Gisborne lowered his head. "Good afternoon," he barked, not looking at his visitor.

Vaisey let out a viperous laugh. "Well, you might lower your head in shame, Gisborne. You have let our night hero escape again and this, this... Is this… is what distracted you?" He pointed his finger at the lady and laughed louder, the ugly sound reverberating in the vacuum of the room.

"This is my sister, Lady Isabella Ghislane of Shrewsbury," Guy informed.

"My lords, I prefer to be called Lady Isabella of Gisborne," Isabella remarked with a small smile. She strode forward and curtsied deeply before the Sheriff. "I am pleased to meet you again, Lord Vaisey."

The Sheriff chucked. "It is good to see you, little Isabella, and after so many years! I didn't recognize you at first… but now I see that it is really you."

Isabella smiled. "My lord, I am pleased to see you, too."

Vaisey laughed, staring at Guy. "Oh, I am so sorry. Gizzy, you were busy playing happy families." He took a step towards Guy and playfully panted his shoulder. "Well, your level of incompetence never ceases to amaze me, Gisborne. Every time I think you have plumbed a new depth, you come and surprise me all over again! Well, maybe now Prince John will remember why he put me in command!"

The Sheriff walked away in a proud manner, his hands clasped behind his back. Isabella of Gisborne and Guy of Gisborne looked at each other, both contemplating one another after so many years of separation. Isabella's lovely face was crumpled with fright and all her pert deserted her at the sight of Guy's impassive and cold face before she recovered her confidence.

"Oh, Guy, I finally found you!" Isabella cried out. "Are we going to stay here long?"

"No, Isabella, not very long. Follow me," Guy instructed.

Guy walked down the great hall, heading to the study room. He abruptly stopped as he saw Marian standing on the stairs. His wife moved slowly and gracefully, her eyes focusing at the unfamiliar lady. Guy lowered his gaze, utter stupefaction spreading over his features; he didn't wish to have Isabella and Marian face-to-face.

"Good afternoon," Marian began, her tone formal.

Isabella made a gracious curtsey to Marian. "I hope you are doing well, my lady." She turned her eyes at Guy. "Guy, she is your wife? Congratulations, you won a good prize."

Guy might have shot him a wry look had the matter not been so unpleasant for him. "Yes, Lady Marian Fitzwalter of Knighton, Lady Gisborne, is my wife."

Isabella contemplated Marian for a moment; then she smiled. "I am pleased to meet you."

"Marian, this is my sister, Lady Isabella of Gisborne," Guy made an introduction, his tone tense.

"I am… pleased to meet you, too, Lady Isabella." Marian sounded baffled and slightly amused.

Staring at the young woman almost rudely, Marian thought that Lady Isabella of Gisborne was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Isabella was dressed in an expensive pale yellow muslin dress trimmed with a low V-shaped neckline and delicate yellow lace. Her long dark brown hair was unbound, flowing down her back like a second veil. Amazingly, the gown set off the color of her hair and enhanced the rosy glow of her cheeks and lips. In the rays of the weak morning sun, she glittered like sun-drenched crystal.

Marian could see the amusement and mischief lurking in Isabella's eyes every time she batted those long lashes at Guy. Her blue eyes were expressive and almond-shaped, sparkling like the depths of the blue ocean above her full, extremely sensual lips. Her nose was small and straight, emphasizing high cheekbones and a long, swan-like neck. Her arms and long slender fingers moved with a natural grace Marian couldn't help but envy. Her small, voluptuous body was clearly defined beneath the revealing clothes she wore, causing Marian to catch her breath in dismay.

"Lady Marian, I remember you as a small girl; you were beautiful and stubborn. You always peaked my interest, for you were a unique child," Isabella purred, looking at Marian with a wide smile.

Marian gulped. "You knew me as a child, didn't you?"

Isabella gave her a leering smile. "Of course. At that time, though, you were always running around with Robin of Locksley. I also participated in your games from time to time."

Guy stared at his sister, dry-mouthed and suddenly cold. "Enough, Isabella," he said in peremptory tones. He came closer to his wife and took her hands in his, his fingers gently stroking her wrists. "Marian, I am sorry, but I need to talk to my sister in private."

"I will wait for you upstairs," Marian conceded. She glanced at Isabella, uneasily. "I wish you to have a pleasant evening, Lady Isabella," she said formally and curtsied to Guy's sister.

"You are most kind," Isabella said, also curtsying to the younger woman.

"Finish your exchange of pleasantries," Guy grunted hastily. "Isabella, follow me."

Guy let Marian go and walked away from her, towards Isabella. He eyed his sister suspiciously, and then extended his hand to Isabella; she took his hand, smiling at Guy. Isabella waved at Marian slowly, almost imperiously, and smiled brightly, then followed her brother.

Marian stared after the retreating back of Guy and Isabella, silently feeling anxious as their reunion clearly didn't please Guy. Oddly enough, Marian was smitten with Isabella's beauty, but she didn't feel emotional attachment to her. Marian hesitated a little, and then she wandered towards the staircase.

As Marian was about to leave the great hall, Allan entered from the courtyard. He was flushed and breathless after running from the Sheriff's men in the disguise of the Nightwatchman into the town; in one of the empty lanes, he hastily changed his clothes and then hurried back to the castle. He was surprised that Marian had decided to go on the Nightwatchman's business; he was even more shocked that Guy had killed his own men to save her.

"Hey!" Allan's voice resonated near Marian. "I am here."

Marian turned her gaze at Guy. Gathering her composure herself, but aware that she couldn't show her weakness, she went forward to greet Allan. She was very grateful for what he had done for her.

"Allan? Are you alright?" Marian gave him a worried look.

"I am fine, and you are safe," Allan said quietly but firmly.

She smiled at him with gratitude. "Thank you. You saved my life."

"Welcome, Maz." Allan smiled. "Where is Guy?"

"Guy is with his sister, Lady Isabella of Gisborne. She arrived here an hour ago."

Allan's eyed widened. "Guy has a sister?"

Marian made a helpless gesture. "Yes."

"Oh!" Allan blinked.

"I had the same sensation when I learnt about her existence."

"Let's go upstairs, Marian." He smiled warmly, motioning with his head.

Guy of Gisborne stepped into the spacious study room, and Isabella followed him step by step. He immediately started pacing the room up and down, his hands clasped behind his back and an anxious look on his face. Abruptly, he came to a stop in front of his sister.

Guy stared at his sister, his forehead furrowing in displeasure. "Why are you here, Isabella?"

Isabella pulled up a chair and sat down with a little sigh of relief they were finally alone, spreading the shimmering skirts of her yellow silk gown about her. "I could not endure another day with him."

His scowl deepened. "So what, Isabella? You just walked away?" He pointed an index finger at her. "You were joined in holy matrimony!" He turned away from her.

Isabella's eyebrows shot up, her temper immediately on the rise. She barely managed to control herself and not to attack Guy at the feeling of burning hatred reviving in her heart. But she smiled at him, reminding herself why she came to Nottingham and who sent her. "I was only a thirteen-year-old girl. If you have any idea what he did to me..."

He grasped her hand. "What do you want from me?"

She clasped her hands together in a gesture of childish entreaty."Guy, I am your sister. Surely, you didn't forget that we have the same blood in our veins. All I ask for is your protection."

"Really? And what if I decide to send you back to your husband?"

Isabella shook her head in despair. "Then you would be condemning me to a life of misery for the second time. Only this time you would be doing it knowingly."

"Why should I care about that?"

"Guy, I don't believe you knew the damage you were doing when you sent me to Squire Thornton, but now you do know the truth. Surely you must feel some obligation to me, a sense of loyalty, duty?"

"Loyalty? And can I expect loyalty from you?"

"Give me a chance," Isabella pleaded.

"You must swear that you will never talk about Robin of Locksley in my presence," Guy snapped.

She gazed at him in terror. "You still hate him?"

"Never say his name!" Guy shrieked indignantly, furious to feel himself paling.

"I swear that I will never remind you about him," she pledged. "I will earn your trust and your respect but please... don't send me back to my husband."

"If you defy my authority, I will drag you back to Shrewsbury myself," he promised. "Is that clear?"

Isabella darted him a sly look out of the corner of her eyes and wrinkled her nose at him saucily. "You have my word, brother."

"Very well, then you may stay under my protection," he told her.

She did sense the hesitation before her brother's voice came to her, cold and distant. "Thank you, Guy." Dropping her head to avoid his hard gaze, she thought that everything had gone as she planned.

"You shouldn't thank me. I don't think that you will like living here."

Isabella smiled. "Believe me that it will be much, much better than it was with my husband."

"You shouldn't have walked away from your husband," Guy said rudely. "If Squire Thornton finds you and comes here, I will make you leave with him."

"Guy, do you hate me so much that you are ready to give me back to my husband?"

"Stop talking nonsense, Isabella," he growled. "It doesn't suit you."

Isabella tossed her head. "And does being married to a cruel beast suit me well?"

With some difficulty, Guy bit back the comment that he wasn't interested in listening to her family life. "Does your husband at least know where I live? Can he come here?"

"Guy, you haven't answered to my question."

"Oh, the same old same old," he snapped wrathfully. "Will you ever grow tired of complaining on your husband?"

"Why should I?" Isabella glowered at him defiantly. "You don't know whom you gave my hand in a marriage so many years ago in Angers."

"Isabella, I gave you a chance to have a better life."

She scoffed. "You don't know what I had to endure in my marriage!" She sounded desperate, but her tone was chilly. "I hate my wedding day! It was the day that ruined my life!"

Many years ago, Vaisey and Guy left Rouen and traveled through the county of Anjou, heading to Angers. Isabella accompanied Guy on the trip. She was displeased that Guy forced her to leave the castle in Conches, where he arrived from Rouen and announced that he had left Sir Roger de Tosny who had been wounded and dying. Isabella wanted to stay at the castle where she had lived for several years in relative happiness, enjoying Roger de Tosny's attention and his kindness. She was even more displeased that Guy had forced her to leave Normandy and travel to Anjou.

Vaisey and Guy killed several knights loyal to Prince Richard in the city of Angers. It was the first time when Guy literally bathed in blood of the innocent men whom he had cruelly killed at Vaisey's order. Guy was christened as an experienced cool-blooded murderer in Angers, not in Rouen where he killed only one man in the Forest of Rouvray immediately after meeting with Vaisey. Vaisey became Guy's godfather in Angers, as well as the executioner of his innocence and his most vicious tormentor.

In Angers, Vaisey introduced Guy to Squire Thornton, his second cousin, who fancied Isabella at the first glance. The Sheriff paid Guy only a small fee for his services, explaining that he had already pardoned Guy his huge debt. Vaisey told Guy that he couldn't have given him money to pay for the official knighthood training in Rouen scheduled for next summer. Besides, Guy didn't have enough money to support Isabella financially. Thus, Guy easily agreed when Square Thornton offered him a good fortune for Isabella's hand in a marriage.

Guy thought that his sister needed the gravitas of the marriage to bolster her standing in the world and have a better life than he could have ever given her. It prompted Guy to sell his own sister to the man whom he had seen only once in his life. After the wedding in Angers, Guy left his sister with Squire Thornton and departed with Vaisey.

"You are exaggerating," Guy snapped. "Your husband is a wealthy man. He can take care of you."

She stiffened, her jaw clenched. "My husband doesn't care for me as a person. I am not a human being in his eyes – I am nothing for him. He only wants to sit me down with a pile of smelly fleeces and make me spin while he enjoys insulting and humiliating and beating me!"

"You are his wife! You must obey your husband! He is your lord!"

She chuckled darkly. "My husband has been beating me throughout many years. And you think that it is alright because we are a wedded couple and because he is my lord?"

Guy had nothing to tell her. He hadn't known Squire Thornton and had never suspected that he could have been cruel to Isabella. If he agreed with her, it would mean that he recognized his own mistake, and it was not what he wanted.

"Isabella, please let's finish this conversation."

"I just want to understand, Guy, how you could have married me off to the man whom you saw only once in your life," Isabella persisted. "You got rid of me as though I had been a piece of dirt." Her face was wistful. "You and I lived so well in Conches, at Roger de Tosny's beautiful castle. We were not rich and we didn't have lands, but we were not poor and we didn't starve."

"Isabella, stop." He was barely holding his temper back. The reminder of the fact that he had left his service to Sir Roger de Tosny after the man had been wounded on a tournament in Rouen sent him to the verge of madness. It was one of the most significant regrets in his life.

"Sir Roger de Tosny was interested in me," Isabella persisted, her stubborn and wounded heart winning the battle with her nature of a consummate actress and liar. "Sir Roger was so kind to me! He always invited me to ride together, and you allowed us to ride in the forest without being chaperoned by you. He gave me some gifts, including my favorite sapphire necklace which I still have."

"I know that Roger liked you," Guy agreed. "I didn't chaperone you because I trusted him."

"And you didn't trust me, did you?"

"Isabella," Guy addressed to his sister in a voice as warm as he used in childhood, "You were just a girl of twelve years old when Roger showed his interest in you. He could have done nothing to you. And Roger is an honest and kind man."

"Sir Roger was a man of honor," Isabella agreed, her expression unusually bright. "And if I had been older and if you hadn't left his service, he would have started courting me." Her blue eyes revealed anguish. "_Sir Roger could have married me if you, Guy, hadn't run away from him to Lord Peter Vaisey! And then I would have been free from my husband who ruined my life!_" She gritted her teeth. "_It would have been better to retire to a convent than to be married to Squire Thornton!"_

A cold and bloody rage overtook Guy. Her words were equivalent to moving the blade against Guy's throat. Her words cut him as close as a razor could do.

"What don't you understand, Isabella?" Guy screamed savagely. He barely controlled his anger. "You know very well that Roger was seriously wounded on a tournament. He barely survived his injury. He didn't need a squire any longer, at least for six months; but we did need money to survive."

Isabella let out a sarcastic laughter, her expression growing grim. "It is a typical argument," she said with contempt. "You always find something to justify yourself."

"Isabella, if you don't stop your hysteria, I myself will take you back to your husband, to Shrewsbury."

She continued to glare at him, but now her eyes brimmed with tears and her jaw trembled. "I hate you!'" she spat, and whirling round, ran towards the hall.

Guy didn't pursue Isabella, except with his eyes. She needed a firm hand to control her temper and guide her in a life, he thought. More specifically, she needed the hand of a firm man whom she could have considered an authority and whom she could have respected. Of course, Squire Thornton couldn't be such a man, for she hated him and he seemed to be a cruel man. But Isabella was a married woman, and there was nothing that could have changed that, apart from her husband's death.

He wondered whether her husband was indeed so cruel and whether her heart was too scarred by the unfortunate experience in her marriage. Isabella had always been prone to dramatization, and he suspected that she exaggerated her personal drama. For a moment, his mind drifted off to Sir Roger de Tosny, Baron de Conches, who seemed to have fancied Isabella for quite some time. His heart swelled with pain that he had been forced by Vaisey to leave Roger and be hired by him. If he had continued serving de Tosny at least for some time more, Isabella could have married Roger.

At the same time, Isabella rushed to her bedroom, which the Sheriff gave her at the castle. As soon as she remained alone, she felt tears prickling behind her lids now. Chills shuddered through her body and she was shuddering in rage, hatred and pain. She was sobbing with frustration and fury at her own impotence to control her fate, to be independent from men whom she grew to hate. Once started, she couldn't stop, and the more she tried to hold back, the harder she cried. She lay on her stomach on the bed, her face buried in her arms, and wept herself dry. From there, she drifted into an exhausted doze, her limbs twitching and jerking in the aftermath of hard, physical effort.

_Isabella hated Guy for __marrying her off to the cruel beast__. She hated the day of her wedding to the man who ruined her world, which was the last happy day of her life_. She hated Squire Thornton with all her heart, but she played a role of a beautiful and happy wife. And beneath the pretence she hated her life. The only alternative was to run away, but long years of married life in Shrewsbury deprived her of all the contacts her parents could have ever had, while Guy had deserted her a long time ago.

Squire Thornton was a cruel brute who had violated Isabella physically every day and had almost murdered her several times. Thornton had almost broken her spirit and will, but she managed to survive. Isabella of Gisborne was alone in the world – alone with her pain and hatred. Thus, she stayed in Shrewsbury, chained to Square Thornton and obliged to tolerate his mad cruelty and latent sadism, paying the price for being fed and having a roof above her head.

There was no light in the darkness for Isabella until one happy day, or a day that was much better than any other day in her life since she had married Squire Thornton. Maybe one day she would be able to find enough strength to tell Guy how many horrible things her husband had done to her.

§§§

During the next several days, Marian spent her time in solitude in her bedchamber. For whatever reason, Guy asked her to keep confined to their room, which puzzled her. Every morning she awoke in the morning and found several platters with breakfast on a silver tray, as if Guy had ordered to bring the meal to her to prevent her from leaving the room.

Guy became extremely reserved and very secretive. Yet, he did something very odd for his quiet, reserved disposition; he was unnerved beyond measure when they were alone in their bedchamber, and he often shook his fists, as though at some invisible third person present in the room.

Marian saw that something serious was going on around her, but she had no clue what it could have been. Guy's unusual demeanor proved that; she was frightened, but put on a serene face and smiled at him. The Sheriff was in unusually high spirits at that time, and Marian wondered what caused such a dramatic change in the man who had been so intemperate more than two weeks ago when he had again failed to capture the Nightwatchman. All those subtle changes frightened Marian.

Guy shared the bedchamber with Marian, and they made love to each other every night. She feared that she could have been pregnant after her only time with Robin in the woods, but her fears turned out to be empty. At that time, Robin promised her that she had absolutely nothing to fear because he was excessively careful. She didn't need to be very experienced to understand what he meant: Robin was a ladies man and was intimate with many women, but he never sired a bastard on anyone, as he told Marian, for he knew how to effectively prevent conception of a child.

But now Marian was a married woman, and she wondered why she didn't conceive during many months since she had married Guy: Guy wasn't careful during their intimacies, they shared a bed regularly, and she had many chances to conceive. Then she remembered her injury in the lower part of her stomach, which she had received on the day when she had tried to rob Guy before their first wedding ceremony. Djaq informed Marian that she could have had problems to conceive or bear a child. Recently, Matilda told her the same when she came to her and asked why she didn't get pregnant so far; the old healer only advised that she continued trying for a baby, stating that at times it could be difficult to conceive. Marian wanted to have her own child and feared that she was barren.

Guy of Gisborne always made love to her till dawn, trying to drive all the shadows and fears from her heart and mind, leaving only the passion to color her dreams. Her husband made love to her in every conceivable fashion he could imagine. He teased and tantalized her until she was drunk with his kisses and his touch. She wreathed and moaned in his arms, her groans deep and throaty with emotion. Yet, she still remembered Robin, and her mind often drifted off to her former betrothed as Guy kissed and caressed her; Robin's ghost haunted her day and night.

Once, Guy came to the bedroom nearly at midnight. He spent more than an hour with the Sheriff in his study room, planning their upcoming trip to the Holy Land. Vaisey also invited Isabella to have a cup of ale together; Guy noticed that his sister talked with more pleasure to Vaisey than to him, his own brother, and he was displeased with that. If she hated Squire Thornton, she must have hated Vaisey because it was the Sheriff who gave Guy an idea to marry his sister off to Squire Thornton. Yet, Isabella seemed to like Vaisey's company more than Guy's.

"Marian, I will have to leave soon," Guy said. He began undressing. He removed his sword belt and put his sword on the table in the corner of the room. Then he began unfastening his shirt.

Marian felt her body trembling. "Why?"

"The Sheriff and I have to leave Nottingham for a while."

She was alarmed. "Are you again going to London?"

He stared at her, a frown between his thick dark brows. "I have my deals. I must go, but I don't like leaving you," he said belligerently, as if it was her fault that he had to leave Nottingham.

She met his steel blue eyes briefly, then looked down, on the floor. "How long will you be gone?" she managed to ask after a long pause.

"I will be absent for… several weeks," Guy murmured, wishing that she didn't ask him those questions. He wasn't ready to tell her that he was going to the Holy Land. He lied that he would be absent for several weeks instead of six months or more. He couldn't tell her the truth.

"So much time?" She was amazed.

"You think so?"

"And you are ready to leave me again?"

His expression softened. "Life will be like purgatory; I don't want to go there, but I have to."

"Then stay with me." Her tone was almost pleading.

"I cannot do that." He shook his head, looking into her eyes. "Will you miss me?"

"Yes, Guy, I will," Marian said with a small smile. She didn't lie – she missed him when he was away.

Guy leaned to snuff the candles on the bedside table. Then he drew the hangings close around their bed. Marian would have preferred to see his expression and knew he had probably quenched the light so that she couldn't. His willingness to hide his emotions more than he usually did confirmed that something serious was going on.

Guy took Marian in his strong arms and kissed her with that strange, disquieting mixture of need and anger. She felt his hand on her arm and then her breast, his palm and fingers hard from wielding sword and gripping rein, but slender and infinitely gentle. Never had she been kissed with such rapacious hunger. Marian thought that his mouth had possessed hers as though he had owned it. Never had Guy poured so much molten passion into a kiss, and she thought she might melt at his feet. He plunged his tongue deeply, exploring intimately as though it was his undeniable right to do so. Then he lay atop of her, and they together joined in a dance of love.

Lying abed with Guy in the aftermath of their tumultuous lovemaking, Marian tried to make sense of all the disjointed snippets of information she had collected so far. It was like being blindfolded and walking into the depths of dark forest, hoping to find a way to her final destination, yet knowing that she would need at least one candle or a glimpse of sunlight to avoid losing her way in the maze of trees and bushes. Her mind raced through the events of the past weeks, and she was still at the dead end.

In spite of all her fears and anxiety, Marian quickly fell asleep, and her night was calm and peaceful. Unlike Marian, Guy was gripped by the powerful nightmares, tossing and turning in his bed.

In his dreams, Guy saw the halo of the burning Gisborne Manor, the flames licking high above the roof. He dreamed of Bailiff Longthorn and the crowd of the angry villagers. He could hear the Bailiff's sharp voice commanding to set up the fire at the external part of the manor, his words stabbing Guy right into his heart. He heard how the Bailiff intimidated the villagers that leprosy would kill everyone in Locksley and in Nottingham if they didn't stop spreading the disease in the village and in the shire.

Guy moved his body and rolled over on his belly, heat burning his skin and his heart pounding with dread. In his dreams, he envisioned the villagers throwing torches at the manor and could hear the villagers screaming in horror as the flames were absorbing the building. He could hear the Bailiff accusing him of murdering his own parents and banishing him and Isabella from Locksley. And then Robin's frightened face emerged in his mind, but the image was swiftly replaced by the picture of Isabella and Guy being forced to leave Locksley and Robin watching their plight.

Then another nightmare gripped Guy's mind. He started seeing many dead men whom he had killed at Sheriff Vaisey's order, having visions of heads and limbs being blown off, of smashed bloodied bodies with staring eyes, while, on top of that, reliving every action of his own, every thrust of his broadsword in stomachs, chests, necks, skulls, sides, and legs of his victims. His body trembled under the blanket as he imagined the corpses of all his victims being arranged in a long, very long line. Guy could see the faces of every man whom he had killed, and could imagine their eyes full of horror and pain. He could see the faces of even all those whose lives he hadn't taken, but who appeared in his horrible dreams like ravenous beasts ready to tear his heart and soul apart.

Soon Guy was again dreaming of the fire, but it wasn't the fire at the Gisborne Manor. The dream was different – he was again dreaming of hell and the hellfire. With a cloud of sparks and a shriek of unutterable pain, a black figure emerged from the fire, and the features of that man were unclear. Guy was so frightened that he could barely stand straight; he saw himself stepping away from the flames and flinging out his arms for balance as if he had never stood on his own before.

Guy was trying to run away from the dark male figure, but he failed. He could feel the rough hands grabbing him by his shoulders, inflicting great pain on his flesh. Then Guy could finally see the face of his tormentor – the man was Sheriff Vaisey whose sneering face was so close that Guy shuddered in revulsion and horror. Vaisey took Guy's hand and invited him to go to hell together, and as Guy took it, the Sheriff howled with triumph and led him in the flames of the fire.

Guy screamed in horror. His eyes flung open. He moved himself in a sitting position and stared into the emptiness of the room. Despite relatively cold weather outside and the noticeable chill in the chamber as the fire in the hearth was gone, Guy's night robe was soaked with cold sweat as he awoke.

"God help me," Guy murmured.

Marian also awoke. She pulled herself into a sitting position, staring at Guy in the darkness. "Guy, what is going on? Did you have a nightmare?"

"I did," he confessed.

She wrapped her arm around his back. "Guy…"

He drew away from her. "I am alright."

"No, you are not alright," she protested, trying to reach for hi, but he pushed her back.

"I am fine," he growled.

"I want to help you."

Guy turned over and set his arm around her waist. "I am sorry," he murmured. "Please sleep."

Marian nodded and said nothing. She had understood a long time ago that Guy had suffered from the nightmares about the fire at the Locksley Manor and the death of his parents in the flames. She also suspected that he had dreams about the people whom he had killed. She once tried to talk to him about his dreams, wishing to ease his burdens and support him, but he always cut her off sharply, saying that he wasn't ready to talk about that. If she insisted, he became angry and they quarreled.

Guy lay under the blanket, his eyes shut, his breathing labored. His horrible dreams about the fire and the people whom he had killed at Vaisey's order were nothing new to him. He had the same dreams for many years. _The dream about Vaisey and the hellfire was a new nightmare that started plaguing Guy only recently. He often wondered whether this nightmare meant that he would end up in hell after his death if he hadn't done anything to atone for his sins_.

The nightmares exhausted Guy physically and mentally. He shook his head, wishing to have at least an hour of peaceful sleep. When will these dreams leave him in peace? Surely he wouldn't survive for long enough if he didn't sleep peacefully at all and was always plagued by nightmares about hell. He was ready to tolerate the dreams about the fire at the Gisborne Manor and even about Robin Hood, but not about the Sheriff and hell. What should he do now? Why had God forsaken him many years ago?

Next morning, Marian awoke to a room flooded with brilliant sunshine. Guy was not in the bed, and she believed that he left the room at dawn. She climbed out of her bed and ran to the window, bathing her face in the weak and chilly rays of the spring sun that was now rising astern of them, above the walls and towers of the castle. After breakfast, Marian began pacing restlessly around her bedchamber, uncertain what to do next. She longed to go out but she didn't wish to break her word she gave to Guy – she had promised that she would stay in her room for some time and wouldn't leave it; she didn't want to have arguments with him.

As time passed she grew increasingly worried and discontented at being obliged to remain indoors when she wanted so badly to go out and start inquiries about what was happening at the castle. She knew that Guy's sister was still at the castle, wondering whether Guy had changed so much due to Isabella's presence at the castle. The worst was that Guy gave her only plain emptiness instead of his attention as though she had been beneath his notice.

Unable to tolerate loneliness anymore, Marian dressed carefully in a modest leaf green gown trimmed at the hem with gold embroidery and adorned with light green laces on the sleeves. The gown was gorgeous, made out of expensive silken fabric that draped and clung to her graceful and well-curved body, accentuating her beauty in a way that made clear it had been crafted for her alone; it was one of Guy's recent gifts to Marian. Marian took a deep breath and said a silent prayer that she would find Allan soon, for he was the only man who could enlighten her about the secret events at the castle.

Marian stopped Allan in one of the corridors at the castle. "What is going on at the castle? Why is everyone so anxious?"

Allan looked around, careful not to be discovered by the other guards. "Maz, the Sheriff says that we are leaving very soon."

She heaved a sigh. "Well, have they told you why?"

"We are going to Portsmouth," he said after a short pause. "That's all I know, Marian, alright? And you didn't get that from me, either."

"You know what this means?"

"No, I don't."

All at once, she stared at him, aghast, her brain reeling with the shock, her heart pounding, her knees trembling. "The King. They must be expecting the King to land in Portsmouth."

Allan shook his head in denial. "No, Maz. The King is in the Holy Land. I know this for sure. This trip could mean anything for all I know."

"That's not good enough, Allan! They are planning something! Now what if it concerns the King? Or what if they are planning to sail for Acre to kill the King?"

His brow wrinkled. "It is possible. This trip is just the Sheriff, Gisborne, and I. No soldiers, no mercenaries, but I feel it is serious."

"Are you going to do something?"

Allan gave a sour laugh. "Look, I am just a whipping boy around here."

Marian scoffed. "The packing boy." She pointed a finger at him. "Look, if you go along with treason, then you are committing treason."

Allan laughed. "I am not committing an act of treason because I am going to contact Robin."

Her face brightened, her heart hammered harder and harder. "Robin? How?"

He bent his head down, to her ear. "Robin sent a letter to me through the man whom the Sheriff killed on the day of the fight with the villagers."

"Excellent!" she cried out joyfully. Then her face darkened. "But Robin is in the Holy Land…"

"Lord de Lacy told me that I can always come to him and tell him... But…" He stumbled with words.

"Did you do that?"

"I came to Locksley as soon as I learnt about our journey, but they told me that Lord de Lacy had left for the Pontefract Castle two hours before I came. He will return only in three-four days."

"We have to stop it," Marian said resolutely. "I am going to stop it."

Allan looked dumbfounded. "How?"

"I don't know. I will kill the Sheriff if I have to."

Allan's eyes grew wider. "What?" He stepped towards her, shocked by the anger and determination in her voice and in her eyes. "Hey, Maz, have you forgotten what happens if the Sheriff dies?"

"No. Prince John's armies will raze Nottingham to the ground."

"So leave it!" He turned away and headed for the storeroom under the north corridor of the castle.

Marian followed Allan. "Yes, but if the King is in the Holy Land, then Prince John would think that Vaisey had left, not that he is dead; the Prince's men won't come here. Nottingham will be safe."

Allan stopped, glancing at her as though she had gone mad. "Are you going to save King Richard and England single-handedly?" he deduced, his voice laced with irony.

"No, I need your help! You have to help me! Even if Roger de Lacy is away, we have to kill the Sheriff!" She heaved a relieved sigh, which promptly turned into a panicked shriek.

"No, Maz," he whispered. He feared what would happen to him if he tried and failed to kill Vaisey. "We cannot kill the Sheriff without Roger de Lacy. We cannot do this without Sir Roger."

She touched his arm. "Have no fear, Allan. We will kill the Sheriff and then–"

"Sorry, you are out of your depth. Leave everything to me. I will contact de Lacy by myself," Allan interrupted her, intending to go to the storeroom.

Marian smiled cunningly into his face, twitching her hips. "No, we have no time to wait. I am sorry."

Startled by her words and unerring determination, Allan frowned. He didn't have time to say anything else because Marian punched him into his jaw with such strength that he fell backward, dazed, then unconscious. She crouched near Allan's motionless form and took his sword belt. She leapt to her feet and headed to the door, looking around and checking whether the way was clear.

Marian made up her mind – she would try to kill the Sheriff right now. "You underestimated me, Allan," she thought. "Damn you, Allan! That's just your style to depend on others to solve your problems, this time de Lacy, you coward! If you are a coward and fear to kill the Sheriff, then I will have to do that and stop him in England before he leaves for Acre."

Marian quickly passed through the dim corridor and headed to the war room. As she heard Guy's voice calling Allan, she pressed herself into a shadowy corner and watched him pass her. She drew and dashed to the main doors. Inside the war room, she saw the Sheriff swinging the pitcher up and setting it on the map, babbling something under his breath, his face smug and confident.

"My lords! Wonderful news, my lords! Glorious news!" Vaisey muttered, sneering and drinking wine from his goblet. As he put an empty goblet over the fireplace, he outstretched his arms and continued dreaming of power and fortune the King's death would bring him. "We, the Black Knights, stand on the verge of greatness." He chuckled, walking back to the map table. "We didn't wait for Mohammed to come to the mountain, no. We took the mountain to Mohammed!" He laughed gaily, his face pleased with himself. "We did not wait for the King to land..."

Marian held her breath and raised herself on tiptoe to get a better view. She placed a hand on the hilt of the sword and strode forward, her footsteps noiseless. As she stood behind Vaisey, she raised her sword to stab the Sheriff from the back.

Unfortunately, she didn't notice that Sheriff could see the reflection of the picture behind him in the polished silver pitcher. As she lunged at him, the old man ducked and turned around to face her, grabbing her arm. She started fighting with the Sheriff, but he made her spin around and pinned her onto the map table, holding his blade near her throat.

Vaisey laughed. "_Checkmate, my leper friend_."

Marian managed a fake smile. "Oh, well, a great pity."

But Marian wasn't ready to accept her defeat without a fight. Not losing time, she jumped and punched the Sheriff with her legs; Vaisey cried out in pain and cursed. Marian slapped the sword away from the Sheriff's hand with her arm, ignoring the pain in her palm as the sharp blade sliced her skin. Then she landed a fist against the Sheriff's jaw, and Vaisey staggered backwards, but he didn't lose his balance.

The Sheriff licked his dry lips, his face angry. "You are a good fighter, my little missy."

"My father wanted me to be able to take care of myself," Marian said proudly as she leaned down and tried to take the sword from the floor.

But luck was not on Marian's side. The Sheriff rushed forward and grabbed Marian's forearms so tightly that she whimpered in pain. Then Vaisey slammed a hand over the lady's face and pushed her back to the wall, cornering her. But Marian still tried to fight with her captor: she punched the old man in his stomach and tried to run away, but Vaisey grabbed her arms, not wishing to let her go; he was physically stronger and wasn't ready to let her escape.

As the Sheriff stood behind Marian, she gripped his forearms, wishing to throw him over her shoulder and then making an elegant somersault; she often did the same with the guards at the castle. Yet, she underestimated the Sheriff, for he was heavier and stronger than she had initially thought. He punched her in her head, making her to give a howl of pain, and then he spun her around to himself.

"_Again checkmate, my dear missy_," Vaisey said, looking into her cold eyes.

"You are a traitor," Marian retorted.

The Sheriff laughed. "I hope you bear no hard feelings for treating you so badly, my little leper."

Vaisey punched Marian in her face so hard that she tumbled down to the floor. Then the Sheriff planted a heavy-booted foot on her chest, looking down at her and smiling menacingly.

"You are a spirited leper," Vaisey said, pressing his boot down over Marian's heart.

"You are an animal," Marian hissed in impotent rage.

"You made two big mistakes, missy," Vaisey growled, holding her hand tightly.

"At least I tried to stop you." She glared up at him, proud and fearless even in her compromised state, though she was scared and her entire body threatened to give way beneath her.

"But you failed."

"You are going to kill the King!" she accused.

"Yes, I am going to kill the King," Vaisey said directly. "Your husband, Gisborne, is also going to kill the King. And not only the King. We will also kill Robin Hood!"

"Robin won't allow you to kill King Richard! He will stop you!" Marian blurted out passionately.

"What is going on here? Who is going to kill and whom?" a loud female voice came behind Marian and Vaisey. It was Isabella's voice.

"Oh, someone else came to us," the Sheriff retorted, licking his lips.

Dressed in a long azure gown cut low over her breasts, Isabella of Gisborne was so covered by pearls that she seemed like a very creature of the sea. Isabella stared at Marian on the floor, with the Sheriff standing over her and pressing her chest with his heavy boot. Isabella's eyes were growing wider and wider; her expression was lost at first, and then it evolved into a deep shock.

"My God," Isabella murmured.

Vaisey took a sword from the floor and pointed it at Marian's throat; his booth was still on Marian's chest. Marian's expression was pained as the pressure from the boot on her breast was enormous, but she didn't flinch, trying to ignore the pain as best she could.

"Oh, we have a new guest!" The Sheriff smiled nastily.

"What is going on? Oh, my God..." Isabella stammered, seeing the sword at Marian's throat.

"My Lady, I am delighted to see you!" The Sheriff shrugged carelessly and laughed.

"Please leave Lady Marian! What are you doing to her?" Isabella was confused.

"Run, Lady Isabella, run," Marian moaned. Then she whimpered and gasped for air as Vaisey increased the pressure of the cold metal on her throat, almost cutting off the air for her.

"You came where you should have come, Lady Isabella! No need to escape!" the Sheriff laughed. "Guards, guards, come here! They tried to kill me! Come here! Save your Sheriff from the assassins!"

Marian and Isabella shared shocked, helpless glances. They were cornered and trapped, hoping that Guy would somehow manage to save them. Yet, Marian and others didn't know that Isabella came to Nottingham with a special mission. Patiently, in the course of endless games and the necessity to always pretend to survive, Isabella developed her cunning strategy; she played all her dramatic games very well, with a combination of speed, art, and boldness which could have disconcerted even a skilful schemer, and for her the stakes were even higher than for Guy.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_I want to take an opportunity and thank everyone who reads this story and reviewed it. Despite being quite busy this week, I decided to upload the first chapter because I know that my readers wanted to know what is going to happen to Robin, Guy, Marian, and other characters in this part of an epic. I managed to proofread this chapter while I was on the plane, though it is possible that I missed some stupid typos or mistakes because I was really tired when I did that._

_In the past days, many frustrating things happened on this fandom. My stories were heavily spammed by someone, and I cannot say that I was happy with that. I cannot understand why people are doing that… Well, now I am left with the only hope that reviews which people post to my stories will soon cover the abhorrent comments posted by the spammers. Even the prologue to the new story was spammed! Everything was spammed! I hope it will stop soon, for it is really frustrating for every author who writes something and makes us a real gift when he or she shares his work with us. _

_This is the first chapter of the second part of the long epic. The plot is thickening as Vaisey and Guy are going to depart to the Holy Land soon. There are spoilers from season 2 in this chapter, as well as from season 3 because I brought Isabella into the plotline, for it is a high time to bring Guy's sister into the picture. Isabella plays an important role in this story._

_Guy is not very enthusiastic about killing the King, but he is still loyal to Vaisey and he also hates Robin Hood, for Robin was pardoned by the King and Guy again lost everything. Surely, Guy wants to take his revenge on Robin, but something is going to happen that will change Guy's opinion about Robin. In the Holy Land, the triangle of love and hatred is going to be untangled, and Guy's redemption is one of the most important events in the second part of the long story. I will say nothing more on the matter._

_As it happened on the show, Marian tried to kill the Sheriff, but she failed. But we all know that Marian was the Nightwatchman for many years while Robin fought in the Holy Land alongside King Richard. On the show, I was surprised that Marian was defeated so easily by the Sheriff, and to give credit to Marian's good fighting skills I changed this scene in my story. In my version of this episode, she violently fought with Vaisey and it was not easy for the old man to defeat her. _

_In the end, Marian and Isabella are trapped after Marian had failed to kill the Sheriff and Isabella had become a witness of Marian's failure by chance. You can probably guess what is going to happen next. As Marian is defeated and cornered together with Isabella, the chapter's title is "Checkmate." _

_I saw in the reviews that my readers are trying to guess whom I am going to kill in this story, but I have to apologize that I cannot answer to this question. Once someone pointed out that I love Robin very much and can probably kill Guy to reunite Marian and Robin; because of that, I announced publicly and I can say the same again – Guy is not going to die. I also told many times in public (check the author's note in the prologue to both parts of the story) that I disagree with Marian's death on the show. I can only say that, unfortunately, someone is doomed to die in the new regicide attempt on King Richard's life. I cannot say anything else on the matter._

_To someone's relief and someone's sorrow, I have to say that chapters 6, 7, 8, and 9 are very dramatic and really full of emotions, angst, and mental anguish because the events in the Holy Land are shocking and tragic. But even if someone dies or is seriously wounded, I can assure you that you will understand why I introduced a particular twist, for every twist has its purpose; you know that I never introduce any twist without a reason. I am sure that you will come to understand and perhaps even like the outcome of the events in the Holy Land, even if I cannot promise you that everyone survives._

_Someone said in a review that I am an angst writer, and I have to agree with that; I like drama and tragedy, and I thrive when I write about dramatic and tragic situations and events. If you want to read something really emotionally gripping and extremely dramatic, then this part of the long epic is exactly what you are looking for. I think this part of the epic is more dramatic than part one; you are warned about that._

_Recently, two users on this fandom told me that they don't like how I portray Robin and Guy because they have a worse opinion of Robin and a better opinion of Guy, though they still read a story or maybe gave up on it – I don't know. Unfortunately, I cannot understand the true meaning of these words, for I am really trying to portray every character with his/her strengths and weaknesses and nobody is on a pedestal, even Robin. I love both Robin and Guy, but perhaps I love Robin more, for I just love heroes. You know that I am giving a full credit to Guy's hidden goodness and his troubles in the past, and I am showing his soft and human sides, but I cannot make him a great and good man in one chapter; instead, I am slowly reforming Guy. As for Robin, I have always thought that Robin is a difficult character to analyze and write about, and his true nature is hidden behind his mask of a cheeky rogue; I think that many people fail to understand this, but this is just my opinion that doesn't need to coincide with the opinion of other people._

_Given into account the above, I have to ask my dear reviewers to share with me your thoughts about the matter. If you think that my portrayal of Guy and Robin is unfair, please tell me about that even in a public review. As an author, I want to know what the readers think because your suggestions and ideas are precious to me and often help to improve my writing. I would be immensely grateful for helping me to understand if there are moments when I fail to give a credit to Robin and Guy. **I want to correct the mistakes or misinterpretation of the characters in the plotline even if I have already finished the chapters. **_

**_All the reviews are very welcome, even ones with harsh critique. I think all kinds of feedback are precious, and I always try to find in critique something useful to improve the plotline of a particular story and improve my own writing. _**

_I wish you to have a good weekend. _

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Yours faithfully, Amaranthe Athénaïs_


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Lull before the storm**

Guy of Gisborne stormed into the war room, sweeping his eyes over the surroundings; Allan followed him step by step. They froze in shock as they saw Marian and Isabella struggling with the guards who surrounded and overpowered them.

The Sheriff commanded to have Marian and Isabella detained, and the guards tied up their wrists. One of the guards wriggled on the end of the rope, savaging Marian's wrists tighter, making her cry out in pain. Another guard tied the rope on Isabella's wrists.

"What is going on here?" Guy demanded harshly, confused.

Sheriff Vaisey chucked. "You missed all the fun, Gisborne."

Allan entered the chamber behind Gisborne. "Blimey, what has she done?" he mumbled to himself, understanding that Marian had failed to kill Vaisey; he was utterly confused what happened to Isabella.

"Gisborne, your hypocritical leper wife tried to take my life. And your leper sister heard about our plans," Vaisey told Gisborne. He pulled a face in a grimace that made him look uglier than ever but then he laughed. "Now I have both lepers in my custody."

Gisborne gave an inhumanly menacing glare to Marian. Then he looked at Isabella, his eyes as icy as frosted crystal, his lips drawn tightly in a furious frown. Marian glanced down, ashamed of betraying her husband's trust; Isabella bit her lips, her eyes flashing in anger with Guy and Vaisey.

"Allan, did you know something about this?" Guy asked.

Allan shook his head. "I didn't know anything."

Sheriff cast a sidelong glance at Guy. "Why would he know anything about this?"

"Marian knocked Allan out and took his sword," Guy reported.

Vaisey stared at Allan in disbelief. "What? What?"

Allan shrugged. "Well, I wasn't expecting it, was I? Or it wouldn't have happened."

Marian looked at Allan, her eyes enormous in shock. "Traitor," she spat.

"Oh, no, missy, he is a loyal man, while you are not," the Sheriff retorted with a laugh. "Yeah, Gisborne, I am a better swordsman than your leper wife."

"I didn't try to kill the Sheriff, Guy!" Isabella exclaimed. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stood in abject misery. "Guy, you are my brother! You cannot allow him to kill me and your wife! We are your family! Guy, tell the Sheriff to release me! I did nothing wrong."

Vaisey cocked an eyebrow and smiled into Guy's face. "Guy, I didn't try to kill the Sheriff! Guy, I didn't try to do this… and to do that…." He laughed lightly, and shrugged his shoulders with an assumption of amazement. "Guy, we are a family! Guy, save me! What else can she say?" He enjoyed mocking Guy.

Marian took in Isabella's frightened face, thinking that she had been either a good actress or truly a good woman. "Let Lady Isabella go. She didn't try to kill you. She did nothing wrong."

Guy observed the Sheriff, his wife, and his sister, with a confused expression. He was shocked and felt himself trapped at the dead end. He also knew that pleas would only irritate Vaisey. "My lord Sheriff, what are you going to do now?"

Vaisey laughed. "Gizzy – dizzy – drizzly," he said in a singsong tone. "I am not taking the chance that you will ask me to release your lepers."

The Sheriff's words wiped the stunned expression from Guy's face. "What do you mean?"

Vaisey pointed a finger at Guy, an ironic and haughty smile on his face. "Gisborne, you are checkmated and cornered, my boy. Your lepers trapped you and you are in my power."

A murderous silence hung in the air. The Sheriff was humming something under his breath, pleased that he had finally trapped Guy. Guy stood quiet and somber, his expression thoughtful, his eyes darting between Marian and Isabella. Allan looked outwardly calm, but his body was trembling in every muscle. Isabella looked strangely detached, and Marian watched Guy with a small smile on her face.

Sheriff Vaisey clapped his hands, laughing. "Gisborne, you are in my power! You are mine!"

"As you wish, my Lord Sheriff," Guy said, bowing his head submissively.

"Guy, you cannot obey him!" Marian cried out.

"Shut up," Guy growled, his eyes twin blazes of blue flame; he didn't wish to anger the Sheriff more.

Vaisey sneered at Guy, his face dark and sardonic. "Gizzy, you leper wife is making you meek and obedient as a lovesick idiot. Now your leper sister joined her and is making a wet rag from you. Unfortunately, you are completely incompetent and very stupid by nature, but you are also growing weaker and softer every day. I want you to change, Guy."

Marian was outraged. "My lord Sheriff, you are behaving shockingly!" she fumed, with force, quivering with anger and indignation. "Why do you always humiliate Guy? Who gave you the right to humiliate Guy's sister and me? You have no right to say these disgusting things about us!"

Guy gripped his wife's forearm and forced her to look at him. Their eyes locked, and he saw cold determination and fury in her sapphire blue eyes. Guy gave her a hard glare, warning her that she had crossed the line. Allan helplessly stared at Marian, his gaze pleading her to stop.

Vaisey pursed his lips, displeased with her outburst. "Gisborne, I warned you to avoid any deals with lepers. You didn't listen and now you are in trouble," he said seriously, without a hint of mockery. "Gizzy, your pretty leper wife is a naughty little girl. You are her husband and lord, and you must teach her a good lesson. Punish her, if you are a man, not her puppet. You should whip her for her impudent manners and lack of judgment."

Marian glanced at Guy, her eyes appealing to him to defend her. "Guy, don't let him–"

Guy interrupted her. "Enough, Marian! Enough!"

"Marian, please calm down," Allan admonished, fearing Vaisey's fury. He flinched at Marian's fierce gaze she gave him in response.

The Sheriff laughed. "Blah-di-blah-di-blah! Troubles in paradise, Gizzy?" he taunted, narrowing his eyes at his henchman. "Listen to me. We will teach her a lesson." His gaze slid to Marian. "Missy, you should learn to keep your mouth shut by now. You have created problems for Gisborne and yourself," he said, surveying her blanched cheeks with glee.

In that minute, Guy hated the Sheriff with all his heart, wishing to rebel against the Sheriff and teach him a lesson instead of Marian. But Marian's latest foolish actions, together with Isabella's unexpected interference, cornered Guy, and now he had to kill the King to save his wife and his sister. Guy also needed Vaisey as Robin again had an upper hand in their eternal struggle. He was again forced to reconcile with the necessity to live in the darkness and make wrong choices, tolerating Vaisey's insidious speeches and insults, as well as siding with the Sheriff.

Guy's eyes met Vaisey's orbs that were alight with dark disdain towards Guy. Vaisey always gave him similar look when he was disappointed in him.

Guy smiled with a fake smile at the insult, his hands running over Marian's arm. "My lord, we humbly apologize if we displeased you. Marian will never do it again. I will take care of that."

Marian felt betrayed. Her eyes shoot daggers at Guy. "Guy, you–"

"Silence, Marian," Guy articulated between gritted teeth. "Enough was said and done."

Allan's eyes darted between Marian and Guy. Unlike Marian, he realized that Guy's behavior had to be rather submissive now in order not to infuriate the Sheriff.

"Quite enough, for this leper tried to kill me," Vaisey retorted with a scoff.

"What is going to happen now?" Guy pressed, not intending to distract for Vaisey's sneering.

"Gisborne, your two lepers are coming with us to the Holy Land," the Sheriff answered bluntly.

Isabella resumed struggling furiously but the guards held her fast, and for all her frenzy to escape there was little she could do. "I don't want to go to the Holy Land! I did nothing wrong! Release me! You have no right to keep me here!" she cried out.

"You brought this upon yourself, Isabella," Guy said hoarsely, his eyes cold, almost lifeless. "You should have stayed with your husband."

"I hate you, Guy of Gisborne!" Isabella wailed through clenched teeth. "You can have no idea how much I hate you! I would like to see you dead and while I live I shall go on hating you!"

"What a spirited little Gisborne sister!" Vaisey nodded in appreciation. "Gisborne, teach your beloved sister a lesson. She is also a leper!"

"You are despicable!" Isabella whimpered.

Marian looked sharply at Gisborne. "Will you do something, husband?"

Guy looked at her, right into her eyes, trying to tell her that he would think of something and that she would understand him. "I don't know what to say," he said sincerely.

Isabella shot Guy a vicious look. "Bloody fool," she broke in curtly.

Vaisey rolled his eyes. "Yes, Gizzy is a fool who cannot handle his leper family! And now I am taking his lepers to the Holy Land!" He sneered. "I have never been there before. They say the weather is wonderful, and soon we will see this. Gisborne was there and said that it was warm in November."

"Let me go!" Isabella muttered through her teeth. "Let me go at once, or I will scream!"

"Come down, Lady Isabella. It is in vain," Marian recommended.

"Scream as much as you want, Isabella." Vaisey's face twisted into a large sardonic grin. "And you, my little leper missy, say right things for the first time today," he said, pointing his finger at Marian. He laughed louder. "Guards, take the prisoners to the dungeons. They will spend half of the night there, and then we will leave at dawn."

"My lord, I don't think that–" Guy said, but the Sheriff interrupted him.

"Gizzy, you are not in any position to ask something," the Sheriff snapped. "_If you fail me again, you know who will pay for your failure. You should pray that we kill the King this time_."

Guy nodded, but a small frown still worked its way up to his forehead. "I will do everything I must."

Vaisey patted Guy on his shoulder. "Good, Gisborne, good."

Sheriff Vaisey laughed at Guy and began humming something to himself. As Marian and Isabella were out of their sight, the Sheriff resumed laughing. He liked humiliating and presently enjoyed flaring up the darkness of despair in his henchman's heart. The Sheriff began striding up and down the room as he launched a flood of bitter insults at Guy's head. He finally found how to deal with Gisborne and subdue his will, and he intended to parlay the benefits of the situation. Sneering at Guy, he walked away, his head high, his spine straight, and then slammed the door behind him.

"Listen, Guy, Guy," Allan began. "The Holy Land… Is this what I think it is? Are we killing the King?"

Gisborne said nothing, but stared at his right-hand man. Then he narrowed his eyes at Allan. "You are a part of the inner sanctum now, Allan. You should be honored."

"No, no. I am. But we have to go to the Holy Land," Allan said rhetorically, as though to himself.

"_Our ultimate mission is to kill King Richard and it carries the ultimate prize._" Guy reached the coach and settled onto it. "_It is absolute power_."

"Well, yeah, for you and the Sheriff."

"And you, Allan," Guy added. "The Sheriff and Prince John will reward me for my loyalty. And then your loyalty will be rewarded in land and title, I will see to that."

"What, you mean something like a lordship or something?" Allan inquired.

Guy nodded his head. "Yes, Allan. You will be a lord of manor, a rich lord."

"And I will have power?" Allan asked.

"Yes, you will."

"Guy, but killing the King… it is very bold… and outrageous."

Guy laughed unpleasantly, almost mechanically. "Allan, don't tell me that Hood taught you lessons about Kings and power."

"No, Guy, he didn't."

"Allan, you must remember one important thing - power is not given by God, and Kings are usual people. Power is earned by the most capable, the most cunning, and the most intelligent people," Guy said resolutely.

"And you and I are the most capable men? Not pawns?" Allan was genuinely interested what Guy thought. He didn't believe that Vaisey would delegate to Guy much power if he had killed the King.

"A pawn can take a crown," Guy retorted.

Allan pondered over the possibility, sighing deeply; he was left with the only hope that King Richard would reward him for what he was going to do. "And what will happen to Marian and Lady Isabella?"

Guy's gaze found his and held it; then he averted his eyes. "When the King is dead, the Sheriff will release Marian and Isabella," he assured.

Allan already knew what to do. He wasn't so sure that Vaisey would release Marian, who tried to kill him. As the darkness descended at the town, Allan managed to sneak into the dungeons and said to Marian that he was off to Pontefract to find Roger de Lacy; she only smiled weakly at him and urged him to leave the castle before the dawn. One hour later, Allan was swiftly riding along the Great North Road. He headed to the Pontefract Castle, hoping that de Lacy didn't leave to another estate.

Although he was swathed from head to knees in a riding cloak of greenish brown heavily waxed wool, Allan shivered from cold, his breath steaming in the cold spring air. He urged his horse to ride faster, spurring it in its both flanks.

At the sunrise, Marian and Isabella were both shackled and gagged, and the guards dragged them to the carriage. The ladies didn't resist at all, silently enduring their humiliation, though neither of them rejoiced to hear the clatter of chains. Guy looked for Allan but found nobody; as ill luck would have it, it was the Sheriff who had noticed Allan's absence earlier than Guy did.

The Sheriff stopped near Guy. "Guy, don't be too disappointed."

Guy's face betrayed his curiosity. "What?"

"Your boy, Allan. He doesn't love you anymore. He ran away. He lost his nerve."

"I will find him," Guy said, sighing and lowering his head.

Vaisey shook his head. "No, no. Let him go. We don't need him, hmm? It is better this way. Just us."

Gisborne looked aside. "As you wish."

After several hours of non-stop riding, Allan finally saw the outlines of the Pontefract Castle, one of the most impressive and most unassailable castles in England, the embodiment of the sheer power with thick walls, semi-circular towers of various heights, a large front part, several inner and outer baileys. It was long past noon after he rode across the huge walled courtyard, but Allan felt neither tired nor hungry; he was interested only in finding de Lacy and notifying him about the troubles.

Allan was told to wait in the huge curtained hall. Soon, Roger de Lacy marched into the hall from his bedchamber. As he appeared at the doorway, he regarded Allan, smiling at him. Roger's entry, pompous and proud, had the effect of bringing about the instant dispersal of the servants; as he learnt who had come for an urgent visit, de Lacy instructed everyone to leave the hall upon his appearance there. De Lady looked very smart in his dark blue luxurious tunic with silver embroidery on the sleeves and on the chest, his hand resting on the hilt of his scimitar.

"Sir Roger! Sir Roger!" Allan called.

"Simply Roger," Roger de Lacy corrected. "Why are you here? Important matters?"

"Yeah, the Sheriff and Gisborne… they…" Allan stuttered.

Roger looked alarmed. "What?"

"King Richard's life is in danger. The Sheriff has already left for Portsmouth."

Roger's gaze turned sharp. "When?"

"They left Nottingham at dawn today," Allan replied.

"Follow me," Roger instructed Allan. He didn't waste more time and, crossing the room in a few swift strides, opened the heavy oak door and called: "Pack my things! I am leaving in half an hour!" He climbed the stairs and opened the door of one of the rooms upstairs, which appeared to be the study room. He advanced forward and dashed to the table. He began searching for something among the pile of parchments, muttering something in Norman-French to himself.

"Oh," Allan breathed.

Roger eyed him suspiciously. "Why are you so nervous? What else happened in Nottingham?"

"Marian and Isabella are taken hostage," Allan informed tensely.

"Why?" Roger de Lacy searched for the papers, scanning every parchment with his eyes.

"Marian tried to kill the Sheriff in order to stop him."

"Lady Gisborne?" Roger put down the sheaf of parchments, and looked straight at Allan.

"Yes."

"What a pretty little fool! She is a woman! She should do her embroidery instead of playing a heroine!" de Lacy snapped, in a highhanded way.

Allan laughed. "Oh, she is an unusual lady, not quite a typical one."

"Not a typical?" de Lacy arched a brow.

"She is the Nightwatchman," Allan said sulkily, but after a moment's hesitation.

"How incredible it sounds, Allan!"

"Yeah, she at least had a good reason to kill the Sheriff."

"She did a crazy thing!"

"I told her the same."

"Now I have everything we need for our journey to the Holy Land," de Lacy concluded, a satisfied smile lighting his face as he had found what he looked for.

Allan's mouth dropped open. "Are you gonna take me with you?"

Roger gave him a sidelong glance. "Of course."

"Hey, my things, Roger…"

"You will take something from my clothes. I am sure you took nothing with you."

"No, I have nothing. I couldn't attract attention to myself when I left."

"Good." Then de Lacy reached the desk and opened one of the drawers; he extracted two large purses with coins and weighted them in his arms. "We have enough money and all the necessary documents for our trip." He frowned. "I took care of everything in advance, except the timing."

Allan sighed. "I am worried that we will be some time behind them."

"I will think of something," de Lacy assured as he started loading his wallet with golden coins.

Allan smiled; his companion's phrase reminded him of Robin. "I trust you will."

De Lacy huffed. "I drafted the papers for my second-in-command, whom I trust, to represent my own interests and Robin's interests in case I have to leave England again. It seems I felt the danger."

"Danger always smells," Allan tried to joke.

"And who is Isabella?" Roger asked, without emotion.

"Gisborne's sister, Lady Isabella of Gisborne."

Roger de Lacy froze, holding the purse with coins in his arms. His fists clenched in a visible effort not to drive them into the nearby desk. "Lady Isabella of Gisborne, also known as Lady Isabella of Shrewsbury, is Prince John's protégé, if I am not misinformed."

Allan looked abashed. "How… how do you know?"

"On the way from Acre, two months ago, I stayed at Prince John's court in London for two days. I read King Richard's proclamations about Robin's pardon there. By chance, I met Lady Isabella of Gisborne at the court, and she was rather close to Prince John, batting her eyes at him and always smiling."

"Wait! I thought that Lady Amicia de Beaumont is Prince John's mistress," Allan pointed out, confused.

"Prince John has many mistresses," Roger de Lacy said, smiling wryly. "I think Isabella of Gisborne is that mysterious Isabella whom he visited only in the company of his two courtiers and whose name he kept in secret for so long."

"Oh, I see." Allan blinked. "I remember the rumors about mysterious Isabella."

"Well, you see. She must be Isabella of Gisborne."

"But why did the Prince keep their relationship in secret?"

Roger shrugged. "I am not Prince John's mind reader, but there must be a reason."

"I don't like it. It smells bad."

"It does smell very bad," Roger retorted. "Tell me what she was doing in Nottingham."

"She arrived several days ago. Guy said that she needed Guy's protection. I know nothing else."

"Well, I don't believe in coincidences. It seems this is Prince John's another plot, possibly to kill the King. Prince John is a resourceful man; he is a snake."

Allan was appalled and frightened. "Yeah, someone is craftier than Vaisey."

"Don't be afraid. We will deal with it," de Lacy said soothingly, feeling Allan's uneasiness.

Allan shook his head. "I do hope so."

"Help me and take it. I cannot carry everything alone." Roger gave Allan one of the heavy purses with funds for their journey. Then he marched to the door, motioning Allan to move. "Let's go. I will say goodbye to my wife, and then we will depart."

Allan gulped. "Are you married?"

"Why should I not be?" Roger smirked. "Because I am too young?"

"Well, I didn't expect that."

"I married Lady Maud in the Holy Land. She was one of Queen Berengaria's ladies-in-waiting; she was given to our Queen by Princess Joanna. I married not because I wanted to lose my freedom, but because my love affair with her trapped me; I have a child, a small son," de Lacy told his story.

"I am sorry… that I asked, Roger."

"It is fine."

Roger de Lacy quickly wrote a short message for King Richard on the parchment, and then he headed to the adjacent room, where he kept the cage with a Sultan-prized bird. He intended to send the bird with his message to Acre, so that the King knew that Vaisey had departed to the Holy Land.

What Roger discovered in the room made his blood run cold. Allan gasped for air as he stood rooted behind Roger. Roger's steward who stood near the cage, holding the dead bird in his arms after he had twisted its neck. The worst happened – his steward was Prince John's spy and Roger's quickest method to contact the King was now destroyed.

The steward gaped in shock. "Sir Roger, I… I…"

Steeliness entered de Lacy's gaze. "It is a smart and careful move for Prince John's spy." He muttered a foul oath, then unsheathed his scimitar. "Well, I am going to the Holy Land in any case."

Roger de Lacy approached the trembling man and grabbed him about his shoulders. Then he swung his scimitar in a deadly arc and sliced the man's throat. De Lacy wiped the blade with the steward's tunic, and then stepped aside. Looking at the dead man with furious eyes narrowed to slits, he cursed under his breath, then sheathed his scimitar into a golden scabbard.

"Roger, you killed him," Allan breathed, his eyes taking in the steward's limp body.

"Traitors cannot be allowed to live," de Lacy said in a cold voice.

Allan shuddered. "Oh, Roger… I…"

"Allan, calm down – I am not going to kill you and I have nothing against you," Roger said in soothing tones. "I mean a different kind of traitors. You were an unwilling informant, while my steward betrayed me to Prince John in the situation when there is a great threat to the King's life." He quickly moved in the room, crushing furniture and making a mess out of the room. "You were unable to kill the King and you came here. And you did a right thing that you warned me."

Allan's eyes wandered to the bird. "This bird is like… Lardner."

"I know it very well."

"Does the King use them often, Roger?"

De Lacy gave Allan a hard glare. "Unnecessary curiosity is not a virtue," he gritted out as he examined the room. "I am angry. Bloody right I am angry! My steward was Prince John's spy!" He broke off with a foul curse as he opened the drawers of a desk and extracted parchments from there, throwing them on the floor. "I must have been daft if I didn't figure out it before. Now I cannot contact the King."

Allan was bewildered. "What are you doing?"

Roger took in the mess in the chamber. "My steward is dead, and it is better if it looks like someone tried to rob me. I am the Constable of Chester and the Captain of the Third Guard of King Richard's own forces; nothing will ever happen to me for any murder, but I prefer to use a clever tactic."

A muscle worked in Allan's jaw. "Oh, it is so… unbelievable."

"Hush, Allan. We are leaving in fifteen minutes. We must be in Dover in four days and cross the English Channel then." Roger raced down the spiral of the stairs at dangerous speed.

"Why in Dover?"Allan was curious. "The Sheriff went to Portsmouth!"

"Does the Sheriff plan to travel through the continent and then sail to Acre? Or does he take a direct route from Portsmouth to Acre on the ship?"

"He planned to cross the English Channel."

"Good news. Dover faces Flanders across the narrowest part of the Channel," de Lacy explained. "We will sail from Dover to Calais because it is the quickest way to cross the Channel. We will take inland route through Flanders, France, and Duchy of Toulouse. We will sail to Acre from Marseilles."

"Oh, how complicated…." Allan never traveled much, and he was tempted to try.

"We have to hurry. Be ready for a long and dangerous trip."

"I am ready," Allan said, following Roger step by step.

"Hurry up. We have no time," de Lacy demanded, quickening his footsteps.

"I am coming," Allan muttered breathlessly; he was barely able to catch up with de Lacy's speed.

When next his gaze met Roger's, de Lacy looked at the other man as if seeing all his secrets. "Now the situation is very serious, for I cannot warn the King about the Sheriff's moves and he will be oblivious of the fact that his life is in grave danger." Then he smiled. "But we will save the King."

De Lacy almost ran down the stairs, Allan flurried after him. In the hall, they met a young lovely woman, with light blonde hair and large hazel eyes, but so tall that her height seemed to be disproportionate compared to her very slender figure; she was Lady Maude de Claire, Baroness of Pontefract. Roger kissed his wife's cheek and murmured something into her ear.

Roger kissed his wife's cheek and murmured something into her ear. Allan heard Roger say that he would be absent for many months and that he had been summoned to Normandy on the King's pressing business. Allan scoffed at the thought that Roger lied to his wife so easily, not wishing to tell his wife about the true reasons for his absence.

The servants caused the three of the best horses in the stables to be saddled; de Lacy's squire was assumed to travel with them. They loaded two large bags with Roger's things on the squire's horse, whereas Allan carried two purses with coins and de Lacy had the leather wallet, which he attached to the girdle of his tunic. They said farewell words, mounted, and set off at full gallop, going to Dover to sail for Calais and then cross France for their journey to Acre.

§§§

Robin was up long before the sunrise; he disguised himself as a rich Saracen, intending to continue conducting reconnaissance today. He left the Crusader Camp just as the shadowy sandy dunes around the walls of Acre awakened from its misty sleep into daylight and the sky changed from dark to rosy glow. Soon the sky brightened and reddened in the morning sun, a wedge of brilliant orange. The horizon, ever-widening and vast, lay above the expanse of the blue sea, and the treeless slopes, and the sandy dunes, surrounding Acre, all seemed to welcome the new day.

Wandering around the streets of Acre, Robin again was amazed that the city was buzzing with activity and the cacophony of voices speaking in different languages. Running his eyes over the crowded streets to the coastline and to the port, Robin felt as if he were swallowed in the hive of the people, hurrying here and there within the walls of the city. The port was busy, overcrowded with the ships bearing the colors of countries and free cities from all over the Mediterranean Sea. Hundreds of sailors, traders, and longshoremen swarmed over the docks, loading and unloading cargo; everything was overseen by the Crusaders who controlled Acre. Cloth, wines, food, gold, silver, ivory, art treasures, and other more precious things poured into the city by the hour.

He wasn't astounded to see so many ships in the harbor. The city of Acre was an outlet for the trade routes of the Orient and the meeting point between the East and the West. Acre possessed the only safe harbor in all Palestine, and travelers to the Holy Land preferred to land there rather than at Jaffa with its open roadstead; there had been many unfortunate accidents in Jaffa before Acre was captured by the Crusaders. The city of Acre certainly controlled the greatest trade-routes in the East, and trade ships from Venice, Genoa, Pisa, Cyprus, Marseilles, and Constantinople.

Robin spent the greater part of the next hour at the central market of Acre, near the harbor. He looked around, thinking that the market was thriving, for the place was overcrowded with merchants and local venders. Nobody knew Robin's true identity, but even a fool could tell at a glance that he was a nobleman because of his fine manner and luxurious Arabic clothes. Thus, the merchants bade him look at the best of their baubles, delicacies, silks, and perfumes and nearly everything else under the sun. Robin paid them little attention and avoided a straight eye contact, waving his head and signaling them that he would be talking to them if he found something interesting among all merchandise.

In the central market, Robin listened to the outrageous lies regarding the rarity of certain cloths or perfumes, the unmatched skills of a jeweler, a tailor, a barber, or an armourer. He found his walk in the market tiresome and hurried to leave, especially given that he was unlikely to find any trace of Vaisey's Saracen accomplices in the central market of Acre. He headed to the Genoese, the Pisan, and the Venetian quarters which were located in the close proximity to the harbor.

As he left the merchant quarters, Robin walked down the main street of Acre. The sun climbed higher and brightened the sky to a greater and greater degree; there was little oxygen left in the air. Lifting his face, he wiped the sweat from his brow, cursing the heat. In spite of having spent so many years in Outremer, Robin was still astonished that the townspeople seemed to be unaffected by the suffocating heat, and the streets and marketplaces were thronged with folk.

_Robin was amazed that so many King's men considered him a key intermediary between King Richard and Saladin in achievement of peace and prosperity in the Crusader States and in the Holy Land_. Robin felt his heart pounding in delight and pride that he was so loved, so admired, and so highly praised by the Christian warriors. He barely repressed his laugher at the thought that the disguised Captain Locksley was among them and heard so many praises of himself.

"Robin of Locksley killed Grand Master de Sablé in a long and dangerous duel. He established an alliance with the Hashashin," one of the Knights Templar said.

"I have heard that Prince Malik, Saladin's nephew, joined this alliance," another Knight Templar added.

The first knight nodded. "It is true. Prince Malik supported the alliance between the Hashashin and King Richard. It means that the road to the peace negotiations with Saladin is free."

The oldest Knight Templar, who had just approached the group, blessed himself with the cross. "_If God is willing, peace will reign in the Holy Land. Sir Robin of Locksley should bring peace in these lands_."

"We need peace. This war cannot continue forever," another warrior agreed. "God bless King Richard and his chief generals who are working for peace! This war must be finished."

Robin walked to the building of pottery shop and leaned against the corner of the building. The white-bearded Saracen who ran the shop muttered something unintelligible in Arabic and then scowled at the intruder, but Robin threw him a golden coin, laughing and winking at the man. The old Saracen laughed back and didn't chase Robin away. For the next few minutes, Robin simply stood on the corner, taking in the views of the port of Acre before his eyes and watching the people as they went about their lives.

Casting a quick glance at the old white-bearded owner of the shop but not lingering it at the old man, Robin turned his head and advanced forward. His head high, his spine straight, he walked down the main street of cobblestones, surrounded by a row of shops that sold clay figurines and ampoules for holy water, which were popular souvenirs for pilgrims. He turned around the corner and headed to the old part of the city, where the port and fort were located.

Robin stopped at the corner of the building, looking across the narrow, rocky street. There was a flower shop, where each shelf was loaded with various flowers, from violets of unusual shades of violet, blue, and white to cooper-colored, red, and white roses. At the same time, a serving girl was carrying baskets of flowers to the shop, and another one was passing by them. All of them were not Saracens, but rather Greek or Cypriots; there were many merchants of various nationalities in Acre.

Robin watched a small, scrawny man grab the baskets from the arms of the girls. "You should be more careful with the flowers, you tawpies," he bellowed.

Robin knew Greek and understood their conversation. He realized that the small man was the owner of the flower shop, for he scolded his assistants for being so clumsy and not careful with the rare flowers which had undoubtedly been raised somewhere else and then brought to Acre.

"These flowers are fresh and beautiful. Nothing will happen to them," one of the girls retorted, trying to show as little annoyance as possible.

"Be very careful with these flowers!" the old man bellowed. "We should deliver these flowers to the Citadel of Acre tomorrow. Monsieur Henry de Champagne will be displeased if you damage them."

One of the girls smiled dreamily. "Ah, Sir Robin of Locksley is going to have a great wedding! I have heard that Captain Locksley is a breathtaking man! I would want to be in the shoes of his fiancée!"

The second girls giggled. "This wedding is a sensational event in Outremer. I want to attend the wedding, but I am sure that the King's guards won't allow the populace to attend."

"And even to come close to the bride and the bridegroom," another girl said.

"Shut up your mouths, you idlers! I will fire you if you don't work well!" the shop owner threatened.

Robin laughed a deep laugher, for it was both strange and funny to hear about his own wedding from someone else in the city. The shop owner and his assistants knit their brows in confusion, staring at the unknown Saracen. Robin didn't give them a chance to start any conversation; without so much as a second glance, he turned around and started walking down the street. He couldn't have stayed and talked to those people, for he was on the mission; but at least now he knew what preparations were made for his wedding by King Richard and Count Henry de Champagne.

Robin thought that he had already wandered in the old part of Acre for more than two hours. He stopped at the crossroads of two streets. Looking around and contemplating his surroundings, he was seized by the desire to go into the gardens of one of rich Arabian houses and, if possible, to talk to the natives, to see them as they are and once again assure himself that they were nothing more than usual people, not demons that the Christians had to kill in order to re-conqueror the Holy Land. Yet, he couldn't do that, for he had another mission and couldn't blow away his disguise.

Robin paused on the wide street, bordered by Arabian buildings peeping out of green and white orchards, stretched in a straight line to the base of the ascent which led up to the suburbs of Acre, where he had seen Nasir and Karim last time. Praying that he would be able to come across Vaisey's accomplices again, he climbed the hill, nodding at the Muslims and avoiding a lingering eye contact.

He made the way to the place where he had met Nasir and Karim last time, and then he wandered around for at least several hours. He continued searching for any trace of those two Saracens until he saw a glimpse of the red sunset toward the west, which started the train of thought that it was Carter's turn to patrol the area and try to find something while he had to return back to the camp.

Having changed his clothes in the secret building in the Genoese quarter, Robin met with Carter who continued reconnaissance in the area, but under the cover of darkness. By the time they returned to the Crusader camp, the sun had already sunk behind the horizon. Robin stood near the entrance to the King's tent, waiting for the page to come out and invite him for an audience with their liege.

Next moment, King Richard emerged from his tent and paused for an instant, his expression relieved that his favorite had returned from the reconnaissance alive and unharmed. Even in the darkness, the King reminded of the powerful warrior who inspired terror in the hearts of all his enemies and led his men to great victories on the battlefields of Outremer and the Angevin Empire.

"My liege," Robin greeted the King, bowing deeply to him.

The King eyed Robin. "Do you have any news today?"

Robin looked down for a moment, as if he were gathering his strength, before lifting his gaze to Richard. "Unfortunately we still have no news, sire."

Stiffening, Richard frowned. "Let's go inside."

As they entered the royal tent, Richard gestured Robin to sit down onto multicolored silk pillows. As Robin seated himself on the pillows, the King didn't do the same; he shouted, and ten of his most trusted guards, headed by Roger de Tosny, entered the tent. With an impassive face, Richard motioned Robin to remain seated; the lion stared at de Tosny and issued an order to go over the area where Robin, Robert, and Carter had stumbled into Nasir and Karim with a fine-tooth comb.

With a grunt, the King finally seated himself onto the pile of pillows in front of Robin. In the feeble light of one flickering torch in the tent, Richard watched Robin's features and his slightly shaking hands, as if he were weak in the grip of a grief that he had never known before. The King met Robin's eyes and found them dark and clear. Robin also couldn't hide the exhaustion on his face and mask the beads of grimy sweat that rolled down his slightly tanned skin.

"So you found nothing today, Robin," the King said with confidence.

"The reconnaissance again didn't give any results. We have no new information about Nasir and Karim so far," Robin confirmed. "Maybe Carter will find something tonight."

"And you are saddened by the results?"

Robin was very worried. The uncertainty around the next regicide attempt was unnerving him, especially the absence of any news from King Richard's spies in the Angevin Empire and from Roger de Lacy. The current moment was like lull before the storm, and Robin feared what the storm would bring.

"I wish we have already found Karim or Nasir or both of them." Robin choked over the words, his heart thundering in his chest. "Our spies told us that there are more than fifteen Karims and not even one Nasir in the area where we discovered those two men on that night." He made a helpless gesture. "We even didn't see their faces, and their voices were muffled due to the distance."

"And there is the spy in our entourage," Richard said thoughtfully.

"And this traitor is someone very close to you, milord."

"Undoubtedly."

Robin sighed. "Last week, I set four traps for the spy, but no trap worked."

"It means that this man is very close to us. He is also very clever if he can avoid our traps."

Anger clouded the Robin's features; he clenched his fists. "This man is a wretched traitor bought by the Black Knights. I want to kill him myself, with my bare hands – to kill him for you, milord."

The King gave his Captain a loving smile; he had always been impressed by Robin's unconditional loyalty. "Calm down, Robin. We will find the traitor, and then he will be punished."

"God help us! We must find him!"

"Even if our new secret reconnaissance gives us nothing, we know that now neither Sheriff Vaisey nor Guy of Gisborne is in Acre," the King speculated, furrowing his brows. "We don't know much about Vaisey's Muslim accomplices, but we know that they definitely appear in Acre from time to time, even if we suppose that we are mistaken and they don't have a secret hideout within the walls of the city."

"Sire, please permit me to start searching for Nasir and Karim in the nearby villages," Robin ventured casually without taking his eyes off Richard's face.

"Roger de Tosny will deal with that," Richard said authoritatively.

"But, sire, please permit me–"

Shaking his head, Richard smiled at his Captain. "No, Robin. I need you always by my side." He smiled warmly at the younger man, and Robin found himself returning the gesture. "Besides, the date of your wedding is approaching, and you have many other things to do."

"Yes." Robin lowered his eyes, a little embarrassed by the reference to his wedding. "_But whatever I have to do, my private interests are always secondary to the wellbeing of my King and country_."

Surveying Robin for a moment, the lion laughed heartily. "_This is my Robin I love and admire_."

The praise fueled Robin's vain nature. "Thank you, milord."

The lion smiled wryly. "But why are you embarrassed when I mention your wedding to my cousin, my dear Earl of Huntington?" He narrowed his eyes, which mirrored a sly fox. "Are you so much unwilling to marry Melisende? Or does the beauty of my cousin deprive you, my brave Captain, of your breath?"

A wicked gleam flickered in Robin's eyes, which the King didn't miss. "Beauty is power that charms lovers and fiancés, but terrifies a husband." He grinned widely. "I wonder what your cousin's beauty will do to me after the wedding ceremony. But if I am not so charmed, I will be able to breathe easier."

Richard laughed; then he stood up. "Always witty, Robin."

Robin also got to his feet. "Well, I don't really think of myself as inflexible and predictable."

"It is certainly not your case, Robin." The King mocked a sigh. "Now we should get ready and go to Acre before you charm me so much that I cannot breathe and you will have to fetch a doctor for me."

On that evening, Count Henry de Champagne welcomed eagerly King Richard and Robin at the dinner party, which the King ordered to give in honor of Robin's upcoming marriage; it was a normal thing to assure a short proper courtship of Melisende by Robin. The guests were anxious to hear about the courtship and the marriage of the King's cousin to Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntington.

After the dinner, Melisende and Robin remained alone in the study room, while the King and Count de Champagne played in a game of cards. As they stood near the window overlooking the coastline, they stared at each other as if they were mesmerized. Robin granted his bride a sincere, charming smile, and she also smiled at him with her mysterious, enchaining, and a little distant smile.

Robin's marriage became a sensational event in Outremer. King Richard proclaimed that the wedding day would be unique and unforgettable. The wedding ceremony didn't promise to be similar to the same kind of affairs in the Angevin Empire at least because it would take place in Acre, among the sandy dunes, a flat beach, and the sea beyond. The ceremony was planned to be a grand event, but yet much more original than the marriages of the other members of the Plantagenet royal house.

"Trust me, Robin, that we will produce a great pageantry for your wedding," King Richard assured Robin. "I will not tolerate any protests and objections from you, my friend."

Robin asked the King of England to make his wedding a private affair in a small chapel in one of the central districts of Acre, but Richard shook his head in disagreement and said that they would be walking in a stately procession up the aisle of the most important cathedral in Acre, with loud music and incense soaring to the dim vastness of the roof. Robin agreed with the King, understanding that his pleas to do otherwise would be rejected even if he sank to his knees and begged Richard.

And yet, Melisende's relationship with Robin was somewhat extraordinary. They teased and mocked each other, and he shot at her many witty barbs, mainly mocking and at times cruelly mocking, and she fired back at him. They laughed together because Robin's laugher was infectious, and her melodic laugher was contagious as well. They talked about court of love, the art of troubadours, romantic poetry, literature, wars, politics, and dreams. They even talked about the stars and the invisible worlds that existed in parallel to their life, and they both were astonished that they touched such topics. They both felt comfortable together, and they were brutally honest with each other.

Melisende was accustomed to official courtship, which she had in abundance during her two previous betrothals. Her previous encounters with men had all ended with her rejection as she shot at them poisonous witty barbs that made them run away from her to another shire or county. Few people matched her extraordinary sense of wit; only the Earl of Huntington and the Earl of Leicester managed to come close enough to pierce her defenses.

Shaking his head, Robin tore his gaze from Melisende, and then he headed to the chest of drawers. He opened one of the drawers and extracted something wrapped in a large piece of the finest velvet. He headed to Melisende, stopped near her, and made a small, mocking bow to her, smiling at her wryly. Then he handed the wrapped object to her.

Melisende looked at him in amazement. "What is that, Robin?"

Robin laughed. "Open and have a look."

She unfolded the object. There was a magnificent jewelry set inside. It was an oval-cut amethysts and diamonds jewelry set, consisting of a stunning necklace with ten medium-sized amethysts and six diamonds, a pair of elegant earrings with two small amethysts, and an exquisite ring of a cluster type featuring a single oval-cut amethyst in the centre surrounded by two rows of glittering diamonds.

She looked impressed. "What is it, Robin?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you like it, Melisende?"

She smiled with a dazzling smile. "It is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen, Robin."

His eyes blazed at her. "I am glad to hear that you like it."

"Where did you find it?" Her fingers were touching the necklace.

"It was made by Queen Eleanor's royal jeweler. It was delivered yesterday," Robin said, grinning. "On the day I proposed to you three months ago, I asked King Richard whether it was possible to make something beautiful for you. Richard agreed and sent one of our special... birds with a message to Aquitaine. The Queen Mother chose the jewelry set for you and sent her messenger to Acre."

"And today you received it?" She wasn't amazed, for she knew that Richard and Eleanor regularly exchanged messengers through Sultan's prized pigeons, which were also used by the King's spies.

"Yes. I wanted the jewelry set of amethysts and diamonds; I hope you like it."

With a blush, she jerked her gaze from his. "Thank you, Robin."

Melisende continued looking at the necklace until she felt that Robin stood near her. Smiling at her with a mischievous smile, Robin took the jewelry set form her arms and put it on the nearby table. She didn't utter a word while he walked away and then strode towards her with the same smile on his face.

And then Robin kissed her like a lover, hot and deep, his hands sliding down her back and pressing her against his body. He didn't relent until he had reduced her to a boneless mass of passion.

As he broke off the kiss, Robin stared down at her, his eyes gleaming. "It seems you were right, Melisende." He chuckled. "I am capable of doing everything, almost everything, even most indecent things." He winked at her. "You should remember that I am not the people's hero and the King's man – for you I am simply Robin."

Then Robin made a deep and mocking bow to her and left the study room.

Melisende stood there, shaking her head. Her knees buckled, and she jerked herself upright. Her body was trembling with unfulfilled need. He kissed so well, beyond well. He could make a woman sacrifice her name and her reputation and everything to feel his hot mouth to hers and feel his touch upon her skin. God help her, Melisende wanted Robin of Locksley as much as she had never wanted any other man. She did want the mischievous devil in her bed, and she knew that she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her. She wanted him to love her. And then her throat tightened as she realized what she wanted him and only him. She was happy that she was marrying Robin.

As Robin stepped into the corridor, his mind drifted off to his beautiful bride. He couldn't deny that the more time he spent with Melisende in Acre, the more attracted to her he was. He wasn't happy that he was supposed to marry Melisende, but he also couldn't say that he objected to his upcoming marriage. Certainly, he had no reasons to complain on the King's choice of a bride for him. He also hoped that his marriage to Melisende would help him forget Marian; he took an oath to forget her.

Melisende was breathtakingly beautiful, with an air of regality, charm, grace, enigma, and fatality around her. The manner in which she carried herself and wore her clothes could only be described as regal and elegant. Greatly fascinated with her beauty, Robin enjoyed looking at her, impressed by the perfect contours of her beautiful face, her flawless alabaster skin, her large and expressive violet eyes with the entrancing, wicked gleam, and the lines of her well-curved body. He often caught himself on the thought that he wanted her, a normal thing for a healthy man with passions and desires.

Melisende was so intelligent, so clever, and so broad-minded that very few other women could be compared with her on the matter. She was similar to Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine: she was a strong-willed, spirited lady, born for greatness – to rule and to control. Robin adored her mode of thoughts and her mentality; they truly shared many interests and avocations.

Melisende knew seven languages, including her native Norman-French, English, Greek, German, Latin, Occitan, and Italian. Like King Richard himself, Melisende could sing troubadours' songs or read love poems in Occitan and possessed deep knowledge in literature and philosophy. Melisende was more educated than Marian, who also knew several languages and was uncommonly educated woman.

Like Melisende, Robin was a very well-educated man. He had never been a scholar and didn't like studying, preferring physical activities and games over everything else. He spent his days being involved in wild games with peasant children, hunting, practicing swordplay and horsemanship, as well as improving his outstanding archery skills. Yet, if he had been interested in something, he could have spent hours sitting before the fireplace and reading a book; he read mostly military texts – accounts of battles, writings of famous generals, books of strategy, and he was very interested in Aquitanian culture, art, and music of troubadours. Robin was very good at studying languages and liked that very much; he had known six languages – English, Norman-French, Latin, French, Arabic, and Occitan.

Melisende was a great lady, but she was not Marian; they were so different. Robin still felt passion for Marian as he remembered her during his lonely nights, and he was sure that if he saw her again, the passion would flare up between them. He loved Marian single-mindedly until she married Gisborne and broke his heart into many small pieces, and that betrayal brought hatred and disappointment in his heart, the feelings he had never thought he would ever have for Marian. He secretly hoped that disappointment would kill his love for Marian and he would be able to move on.

§§§

Little John was slowly making his way through the streets of Acre, in the southern part of the city, where Bassam, known as the bird's man in the city, lived. Robin allowed him to have a free evening tonight, and John immediately decided in favor of going to Will and Djaq. He came to the house several hours before the evening prayers, so that he could have some time with his friends.

John found Will and Djaq in two richly furnished halls, everything in the Muslim style. John hugged Djaq, and she invited him to seat down on large cushions near a little carved Arabic table, which, with a number of chairs. It was a charming place with a view from the window extending out to the sea beyond, illumined faintly in the light of the sun. It was an ideal spot for the exchange of pleasantries and all the kinds of private conversations, in which the surroundings may be conducive to leading people on to say more than they mean.

One of the servants, a young Saracen girl Konnie, served them an excellent meal. There was an orgy of food at the table: various soups and stews prepared with rice and Arabic spices, potatoes, peas, carrots, extremely tender kebab, Djaq's favorite mansaf and Ackawi cheese. There were several kinds of dishes garnished with cooked pine nuts and almonds. John found the food much better than hot oatmeal porridge, stew and venison, which were the usual meal of the Crusaders.

"We haven't seen Robin for so many months. How is he doing? What is the news?" Djaq asked.

John put a large piece of bread into his mouth. "Robin is doing fine. He has done a great job for King Richard and England. If you have heard, we traveled to Masyaf and established an alliance with the Hashashin. We are on the way to set up peace negotiations with Saladin."

She smiled lazily. "It is a great achievement. May God help Robin to bring peace to the Holy Land."

"Everyone praises Robin that he had killed Robert de Sablé, Grand Master of Knights Templar," Will continued discussing the topic. "People say that there was a bloody fight and Robin killed the infamous Christian knight in quite a spectacular manner."

John drank hot spiced wine with enjoyment. "Grand Master de Sablé was a traitor. He planned to hire the Hashashin to kill King Richard. He was Prince John's ally."

"I have heard that Robin's fight with Grand Master de Sablé was very violent," Djaq spoke, her tone oddly formal. "I am happy that Robin exposed this vile man as a traitor and then killed him in an honorable combat."

"The fight was long, difficult, and bloody… And Robin… he… was not himself in the end." John trailed off, his mind drifting off to the pictures of the headless body, cold shiver running down his spine.

Will shook his head. "Something like Robin Hood in the woods when he almost killed Gisborne after having him beaten and tied up to the tree?"

John eyed them apprehensively. "Yes. Robin said goodbye to de Sablé by beheading him."

Will nodded solemnly. "Quite predictable from Robin if he is in rage. Robin loathes and hates all traitors to King Richard and England."

"He is a hothead and a rebel in his blood, by nature," John opined as he nibbled mansaf, enjoying its softness and good taste. "When Robin has to face treason committed by King Richard's formerly loyal subjects, he may turn berserk with anger."

"Come on, de Sablé deserved a bloody death," Djaq underscored.

Will gazed at her worriedly. "Djaq, what do you have against Robert de Sablé?"

Djaq swallowed hard, her face flushing as she recalled vividly those desperate moments. "Three Knights Templar killed my brother and father. Those men were very close to de Sablé." She loved her brother so much that she took his name in his honor and used it in her new life in England.

"This vile man will never lay hands on you. He is dead now," Will growled with fierce determination. He tenderly touched her cheek and looked into her eyes, his gaze compassionate and kind.

John snorted, shaking his head in amazement at the coincidence. "Well, this man deserved to be killed by exactly Robin, for King Richard and for you, Djaq."

"The gossip is that Robin is marrying soon," Djaq jumped to another theme.

"It is true. Robin is marrying King Richard's cousin in a week," John informed.

"He doesn't love this lady," Will stated matter-of-factly.

"This is a political marriage," John confirmed.

"But a political marriage is surely better than loneliness," Djaq interjected.

"While it is true, it is also unfair to Robin, for he doesn't love his bride," Will said confidently.

John took a goblet of wine and emptied it. "I see that Robin feels a kind of attachment to Lady Melisende. This lady is very beautiful."

"Well, it is good news." Djaq flashed a warm smile, feeling relief washing over her; she was worried for Robin's mental state, and if he could find consolation in his new marriage, she was happy for him.

"I cannot understand why Marian broke her betrothal to Robin and married Gisborne, a murderer and a traitor," John growled angrily. "She had no right to turn Robin down so cruelly!"

"A woman's heart is not an easy thing to understand, especially Marian's heart," Djaq mused. There was a note of philosophical nature in her voice, and her companions recognized it. "Maybe Marian had done a great favor to Robin by leaving him before they were married."

Will understood Robin's feelings for Gisborne because he himself hated Vaisey as much as Robin hated Guy; the Sheriff killed his father, but was still alive. "Probably Robin's marriage to the King's cousin is a good thing. But I agree that Marian probably made a wrong choice of a husband."

Giving him a long stare, Djaq smiled at Will and put her hand on his shoulder. "It is not our deal. Let them live their own lives and we will live our lives," she remarked tactfully.

Will's lips curved in a benevolent smile. "Let's hope Robin will be content in his matrimony."

"Oh, I forgot," John began. "Robin asked me to pass to you an invitation to the wedding feast."

"Robin wants us to seat at the same table with other Crusaders?" Will inquired in disbelief. "He knows very well that Djaq and I don't share his devotion to King Richard."

"I don't mind going," Djaq said suddenly.

"Are you sure?" Will was genuinely surprised.

Djaq shook her head slightly and smiled. "Yes, I am. This is Robin's wedding after all."

John sat silent for a while, staring into the deep purple wine steaming in the goblet before him. He seemed so abstracted that his friends were impelled to prompt him to speak. "Now I understand why Robin is loyal to our King. The King loves Robin so much; they are close friends."

"I said once that Robin's loyalty to the Lionheart is a political matter and a personal one," Djaq said.

"You were right," John said after a short pause. "I changed my attitude to King Richard."

Will took a goblet of wine and made a small sip. "Why?"

"I can't say exactly how it happened," John theorized. "King Richard's ability to reward loyalty and his charisma impressed me, and he inspires all of his men. The King may be a very cruel man, but he is also an amicable person who cares about his own soldiers."

"John, I believe you could have been impressed by the Lionheart, for he is certainly a charismatic man," Djaq said with more than a hint of understanding. "But there is more to this man when he usually shows to his people. He is very cunning and deceitful if he needs or wants to win a big game and destroy someone."

"The King can be very cruel," John said in a barely audible voice. "But he loves Robin so much."

Will blinked, confused. "Djaq, why do you want to see the King at Robin's wedding?"

"Because Robin would want us to attend," Djaq answered. "For Robin."

"Robin sent his man, Sir Legrand, to Nottingham. Sir Legrand carried a message for Allan from Robin; the King agreed to pardon Allan if he helped us to defeat the Black Knights," John informed.

"Very good!" Djaq flashed a bright smile.

Will smiled timidly. "Robin is a good man."

"Allan may warn the King about Vaisey's new regicide attempt. Be prepared if he comes here, to Bassam's house, because Robin gave Allan your contacts in Acre; he believed that you would help Allan go to the King's camp if Allan arrives here," John continued.

"It is good to know. We will be prepared," Djaq promised.

"We are in the Holy Land, but we are still saving England by saving King Richard," Little John declared passionately. "Even after de Sablé's death and the massacre in the camp, the Sheriff is still plotting to kill the King. They are already dividing England between themselves. And we must stop them."

Will's eyes widened at the thought how much John had been affected by the Lionheart. Djaq only smiled, knowing quite well how easily people got under the lion's charismatic spell.

"I agree we must stop the Black Knights," Will retorted. "Count me in, even though I won't fight among the King's soldiers."

"I am in, too," Djaq said quietly.

During the next hour, they were sitting at the table, playing chess when Bassam came inside the room, his face curious. Little John stiffened because Bassam was the last person whom he wanted to see just then; he still remembered how the man met them on the day of their arrival in Acre. In spite of the white turban and his white robes, which swathed his proud head, Bassam looked a sinister figure in his white Arabic caftan, unadorned save for the broad dagger thrust through the silken sash.

Bassam eyed Little John from top to toe, his eyes glittering darkly at the sight of a red Crusader cross on John's white tunic. He greeted him without exaggerated courtliness and said that he didn't intend to bother them for long. He explained that he just needed to take away some books from the chest of drawers. He took a book in his hands and opened it, pretending to read it and tried to frown as if he were pondering the contents; in reality, he observed Little John out of the corner of his eye.

"You have to excuse me, John, but I can barely tolerate even the sight of any Crusader," Bassam said quietly, as if he unconsciously believed that the two other people in the room could understand.

Unexpectedly, Little John seemed more abashed than angered by Bassam's manner of speech.

Djaq gave a nod. "You don't need to explain, Uncle."

Bassam sighed. A painful look crossed his dark face and disappeared as quickly as it came, to be replaced by a scowl. "I have to explain as this man is not guilty of my feelings." His gaze flew to John. "I have nothing against you and your friends. This is about what King Richard did here."

John gave Bassam a sympathetic gaze. "I understand you. The Crusaders committed many atrocities."

"Saffiya's twin brother and her father were killed by the Crusaders. They killed so many people," Bassam snapped angrily. "I hate King Richard the Lionheart because I have seen what he did here. He killed many men, but not only warriors; he killed women and children in the raids his men did on our villagers and in the massacre of Acre." He drew a deep breath. "And I witnessed, from a distance, the bloody massacre of three thousand prisoners at the Melek-Ric's order. I have loathed everything about the Crusaders since the moment when I learnt about my elder brother's death. Most of all I loathe Melek-Ric. Any reminder of the barbaric King may send me into the worst of tempers."

"I witnessed the massacre, too." Djaq felt tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, making them shimmer in the bright sunlight. "It was one of the most gruesome experiences I have ever had."

"The Lionheart's heart is as cold as the desert in the night. He is a murderer," Bassam spat.

"King Richard can be very affectionate. My Captain is the King's devoted friend, and I have seen our King very far from high and mighty when he is with Robin," John intervened.

_Unexpectedly, Little John was more and more impressed with King Richard day by day, for the lion was a rare and unbelievable amalgamation of generosity, justice, charisma, cruelty, cunningness, and roughness. The King's sheer confidence and regal ability magnified John_. Yet, the former outlaw was at loss how so many people gave cheers to the King and didn't find it strange that the English monarch who, despite having spent much of his boyhood in England, didn't like the country and spoke the language of the people he now ruled with a heavy accent, yet captivated all the fighting. John found it uncomfortable and irritating that Robin and other guards preferred to speak in Norman-French for the sake of the King; he barely understood French and even didn't like it.

"Melek-Ric is generous only to those whom he loves and keeps close to himself. He doesn't care for many others," Bassam contradicted.

"The King cares for his soldiers. He can be very magnanimous," John shot back. "I myself have seen such cases. I hope you don't doubt my words?"

"I don't," Bassam said reluctantly.

Bassam was a clear-sighted and well-educated man, schooled from a very young age by the best teachers. For many years, he served as the envoy of one of Saladin's emirs in Acre, while Djaq's father was Saladin's personal physician. Bassam struggled with himself for a while to accept that Djaq felt such strong emotional attachment to her English friends and that she fell in love with the Englishman. His young niece, who was almost a daughter to him, returned to him in Acre, but she was so different from the girl who had left the Holy Land several years ago.

Djaq's tale about her life in slavery boiled Bassam's blood. He was even angry that Djaq stayed in Sherwood after she had been freed by Robin; he couldn't imagine that his niece had put her health and even her life in the hands of probably bloodthirsty foreigners. He made no attempt to hide his dislike of Djaq's friends at first. Yet, Djaq told him so many good things about Robin Hood that Bassam grew to admire Robin's bravery and honesty. He was grateful to Robin for saving Djaq and bringing her unharmed to Acre. He had also been secretly impressed with Robin of Locksley's infamous reputation in the Holy Land a long time ago. So he was rather amazed how little he actually knew about the so-called brave Captain Locksley, apart from Robin's well-known humanity and magnanimity.

Many people said that Robin of Locksley was a nobleman of an especially high repute and that he was a close friend of King Richard and his protégé, a brilliant warrior who was passionately, if not madly, devoted to Richard. On the back of Robin's relationship with Richard, Bassam tried to dismiss the fame about Robin's humanity, but he failed to do that in the light of Djaq's tales, her deep admiration for Robin and her respect to the bold Captain, as well as Robin's role in Djaq's salvation from slavery. He didn't say that he rejoiced in the recent news about Robin's fight with Grand Master de Sablé at Robin's hand, the very man whose people killed his brother and nephew.

Looking at Little John, Bassam could easily guess that John was not a typical bloodthirsty warrior even without Djaq's tales about her life in Sherwood; Djaq confirmed his thoughts.

And there also was Will, the love of Djaq's love whom she wanted to marry. Bassam had never imagined that his niece would ever have a desire to bond herself to the Christian. Yet, the more he watched Djaq and Will and heard about the outlaws of Sherwood, the more convinced he was that he had probably misjudged them. In the end, he stated feeling unconformable and blamed himself that he didn't greet Djaq's friends properly on the day of their arrival in Acre.

Bassam's face was dark. "Saffiya, I hated all the Christians when I learnt that they had captured you and shackled you and made you their slave. I didn't know where they took you, and I thought that they killed you in the end. It made me loathe the Crusaders and the Lionheart even more." He seemed about to explode in mirth, frowning and scowling fiercely.

Bassam went on talking about the Crusaders and the evil Christians had caused to their family, whereas Djaq sat quietly staring at her folded hands on her lap and fighting the rising tide to weep. From time to time, she glanced up to find Bassam eyeing her expectantly, to meet John's understanding look, but she didn't wish to look at them. Instead, she wanted to look only at Will, who was growing irritated with Bassam's talk about the past because he saw that it depressed Djaq.

"Saladin killed the Christians, didn't he?" Little John questioned cautiously.

"Yes, he did," Bassam agreed.

Bassam had nothing to say in response. He fell silent, glaring at John with a heated gaze. John's gaze was calm; he guessed whether the man would actually swing like a crazed mad man at him. Bassam now turned angry at last, muttering something in Arabic under his breath; he let his gaze freely wander across the chamber, his eyes sparkling and his cheeks on fire.

Djaq blinked back the tears that were sparkling in her eyes. "Let's change the subject."

"Djaq, how can I help you? Please don't be so sad!" Will ran his hand across her cheek with his fingertips, a small gesture of his affection for her.

"I am fine, Will." She brushed away oozing tears, masking her sudden weakness with the memories with an assumed boldness; yet, her chin was tilted defiantly.

Bassam swept his eyes over his guests. "I am sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. Now I will leave you to your amusement."

"Most definitely, you didn't harm us, Uncle," Djaq said soothingly.

Bassam looked at his niece, his eyes softening with unshed tears. "Forgive me, my dear Saffiya, if I displeased you. I am an old man who didn't think when he spoke."

Bassam's face resumed its earlier sternness; he bowed to the guests and headed to the exit. The door slammed dully behind him. Everyone sighed heavily, listening to the fast-fading footsteps of the man whom Djaq loved with all her heart and Little John and Will deeply sympathized with.

John looked at the closed door where Bassam had left. "Did Bassam accept your relations?"

Djaq smiled heartily, feeling Will's hand squeezing hers. "Yes, he did. He likes Will."

"What did you say to make him change his mind in several months?" John wondered.

"Oh, I did nothing really serious," Djaq replied casually, as if they were discussing a mere trifle. "My Uncle only understood that I love Will and he loves me."

Will shrugged eloquently. "I was amazed that Bassam accepted me."

Djaq smiled fondly at Will and patted his cheek. "But he likes you, my beloved."

"I am happy for you," Little John retorted.

Will embraced Djaq with true warmth. Feeling his arms around her, Djaq felt calmness as though Gods had heard her and unburdened her tormented soul. She loved Will dearly, for his inexhaustible goodness, for his sincere affection for her, and for his ever-watchful care of her. Will pressed her to himself closely, murmuring endearments into her ear, and she clung to him with urgent need. Little John smiled at the couple with almost a fatherly smile, delighted with their blissful happiness.

§§§

The grand wedding of Sir Robert James Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntington, and Lady Melisende Adelaide Plantagenet, Countess de Bordeaux, took place in the Cathedral of the Holy Cross, the largest Crusader Church in Acre. In the warm, amber glow of the light from hundreds blazing candles, the bride and the bridegroom knelt together at the altar, their hands linked under a purple silk bridal canopy. Flickering flames set the nave aglow, along with the faces of Robin and Melisende. Everyone was still, listening to the Mass and the songs spoken and sung in Latin and Norman-French.

Robin felt as if he were somewhere else during the wedding ceremony, out of his own body. It was difficult to believe that it was his wedding, though he was well aware of King Richard and the Earl of Leicester standing near them as their witnesses.

Robin watched his bride from the corner of his eye, periodically casting short glances at his surroundings – the high white and gold ceiling with its hexagonal mouldings, the heavily gilded furniture and, last of all, the great canvases depicting the imposing figures of Christ and Virgin Mary, all of which strengthened the sensation of unreality in his heart.

King Richard the Lionheart, the legendary _Coeur de Lion_, smiled benevolently at Robin. To mark the occasion, the King of England wasn't dressed in his usual Crusader attire, looking majestic in his purple tunic and pants of matching color, a golden jeweled crown adorning his red-gold head.

The lion's face was regal and unemotional, but there was a small smile curving in the corners of his lips which betrayed his satisfaction and good spirits on the day of his grand favorite's wedding. He smiled warmly every time when his gaze fell at Robin or Melisende. Taking an example from Richard, the King's chief generals didn't wear Crusader tunics tonight, but everyone was armed.

Robin let his eyes dwell appreciatively on the lovely face of Melisende, his gaze wandering over the long, graceful throat and the proud curves revealed by the low-cut bodice of silk and lace. Melisende looked regal and very beautiful. Her wedding attire was quite unusual: she wore a magnificent gown of heavy, silver-violet brocade, stiff with gold embroidery, with low square-cut neckline and with long taffeta train. The collar and the cuffs of sleeves were faced with a massive row of light blue Venetian lace. The color of her gown perfectly matched her violet eyes and enhanced her well-developed curves.

Melisende's jewelry was exclusive and exquisite. The sapphire and pearl bracelets of almost barbaric splendor adorned her neck and arms, a sparkling large oval cut sapphire necklace adorned – her bosom. Beneath the crown of cooper-colored roses and violets on Melisende's head, the color of her hair was deeply red-gold, almost red, and it shone like copper in the bright sunlight. Her long hair was partly piled up into a heavy chignon to support the crown of flowers and emphatically framed her alabaster face. The color of her hair immediately betrayed her blood relationship with the King of England, for the red-gold hair was the distinguishing feature of the Lionheart and many Plantagenets.

Robin closed his eyes for a second in order to regain his composure, and then opened them at the altar. _Robin still loved Marian, he didn't forget her, but he began to think that fate gave him a great chance to find peace in a marriage to another woman who understood his utter loyalty to King Richard and England. But he had to admit that Marian somehow seemed distant and his passion for her cooled off due to her betrayal and his deep interest in Melisende_.

Melisende Plantagenet also observed her future husband, thinking that Robin of Locksley, at twenty six, was a magnificent man. Dressed in an azure doublet with standing lace collar, gold embroidered lions on his chest, and pants of the same color, each piece trimmed with exquisite jewelry, Robin looked roguishly handsome and devilishly charming, with a languid, aristocratic grace and a devil-may-care attitude mingled in the same man. His stubborn light brown brows and the powerful chin counteracted the boyish handsomeness stressed by his impishly cut, sandy-colored hair, and his small roguish beard. His facial features, unlike those of many nobles, were not fixed in an expression of perpetual boredom but rather in that of detachment and blankness, if he was serious, transforming into a cheeky grin of a rogue if his mischievous nature prevailed.

Robin set the ring on his bride's finger and then spoke his marriage vows, his voice steady and fast. The ring was an exquisite piece of jewelry – a beautiful golden ring with a large amethyst in the center, which was surrounded by ten small shimmering diamonds. Then Melisende slipped on Robin's finger a similar ring. Robin chose these rings to match the color of her violet eyes.

Robin looked at Melisende as she spoke her vows, and imagined that she was Marian, but Marian's face quickly faded away. The priest raised his hand in blessing and then uttered the ritual words, all heads were bowed. The priest lapsed into silence, and everyone stared at the bride and bridegroom.

_Robin suddenly realized that he was married to Lady Melisende Plantagenet, Countess de Bordeaux, but not to Lady Marian Fitzwalter of Knighton_. He was joined in holy matrimony with the King's cousin, and his future descendants would have royal blood in their veins, which was a dream of many nobles. He was not only the Earl of Huntington now, but also Count de Bordeaux through his marriage to Melisende; he was one of the most high-ranking nobles in the Angevin Empire at that stage, though he didn't particularly care about his social standing.

Somehow the enlightening thought of his marital status seemed to have moored on the dull shores of reality, and Robin bent his head down, kissing Melisende in her lips, with a short and gentle kiss, his eyes glowing with tenderness and lust, and her eyes twinkling in light amusement.

Melisende gazed up at Robin wonderingly. "Forever," she said softly. "Until death do us part."

Robin smiled faintly. "Until death do us part," he repeated, dropping a reference to forever.

Robin looked at King Richard who smiled encouragingly at him, as though inviting a large share his happiness with the union. Robin smiled widely at the King and then looked at his new wife. Robin's friends also hurried to congratulate their friend, wishing him all the best.

King Richard enfolded Robin into a warm, affectionate embrace. The lion held his Captain in the circle of his arms more than it was appropriate. "Robin, take care of our cousin," he said hortatively.

"With my life," Robin replied truthfully.

The King hugged Melisende and she threw headlong herself into Richard's arms. "I love you, too, Melisende. You have always been my weakness, you and Johanna. I have always loved you most of all in our family." He held her tightly to himself. "I hope you are pleased."

Melisende sighed into his chest. "I hope everything will be… alright."

Everyone congratulated the newly wedded couple.

The May morning was hot and sunny, and the air smelled pleasantly of fresh flowers in the guardians near the Cathedral. The wedding party emerged from the Cathedral, and the Crusaders stared back at Lady Melisende Plantagenet, squint-eyed with envy and unhidden lust in their gazes, for they didn't have the pleasure of seeing such a beautiful woman for so long. She was a Goddess in the midst of all those battled-hardened Crusaders, yet splendidly appareled men in the honor of the ceremony.

They rode through the streets of Acre towards the Citadel of Acre located in the southern district of the city. The roads to the Citadel were lined with hundreds of the Crusaders because the wedding of Captain Locksley and the King's cousin had become the most popular event in Acre. It was a holiday crowd, dressed in its smartest clothes and rippling with excitement and curiosity. The King's guards and the Knights Templar thronged the gardens, crowded the streets and dabbled their fingers in the fountains. The streets near the Citadel of Acre were so crowded that it seemed as though all Acre had come to King Richard's residence in the city.

King Richard, Robin, and Melisende were seated in a magnificent carriage, Melisende between the King and Robin. The King waved out the crowds who cheered Richard and the newly wedded couple; Robin and Melisende were quiet and regal, watching the people. Robin liked the grandeur of their party, and for an instant he forgot all the troubles that had overcome him, that he had married not Marian of Knighton, but Melisende Plantagenet; but it was only for a second, for when the carriage stopped in front of the entrance to the Citadel of Acre, the reality once again came crashing down upon him.

The Citadel of Acre was the part of the city's defensive formation, reinforcing the northern wall. It was a huge fortress, the main residence of King Richard within the walls of Acre during the Third Crusade. The building was secured by huge walls and operated similar to a small town within itself. It contained the quarters of Henry of Jerusalem, Count de Champagne, and Lady Isabella of Jerusalem, who in fact governed the area whilst Richard was absent fighting the Saracens.

Richard took Melisende's hand and kissed it briefly; he nodded at Robin, signaling to take his wife's hand. Forcing a bright smile, Robin took Melisende's hand and their eyes locked. Robin stared at his young wife for long enough for her to glimpse the feeling of incredibility in his fathomless pale blue eyes and his fear. Melisende smiled at her husband with a slow, bewitching, dazzling smile, mastering her courage, and showed with her eyes to him that they should have followed the King.

Robin led Melisende out of the carriage, through in the vast square courtyard. He whispered into her ear that she was very beautiful. He had already informed her countless times of how beautiful and enchanting she looked, and Melisende felt that he indeed felt so; she only questioned whether Robin didn't regret marrying her. They both were overwhelmed by the events of the day.

Inside the walls, there were many more people in the Citadel of Acre than on other days, for the sole reason of the wedding celebrations. The interior contained countless armed King's guards and archers; here the majority of the men wore white tunics featuring a fully embroidered coat-of-arms of the three golden lions of England. This was necessary to ensure the safety of the King and his entourage.

The great hall was decorated with evergreen ribbons and various flowers, including violets of unusual shades of violet, blue, white, and some bicolored, arum lilies, and a multitude of cooper-colored, red, and white roses. Trestles dressed in green linen lined the perimeter of the room and brightly clad musicians and players, who waited to entertain the guests during and between the various interludes of the wedding feast. The room was filled with perfume of lilies, lavender, and rosemary.

King Richard sat at the center of the long table covered with orgy of delicious French food and great wine from the best vineyards of the Loire Valley, with Robin and Melisende at his right and left, respectively. All the eyes in the hall were attached to Robin and Melisende, everyone smiling and congratulating, as well as enjoying the lavish and opulent feast, a rare event in Outremer.

The atmosphere was jolly, filled with merry laughter and lighthearted enjoyment. The celebrations were colorful, expensive and magnificent. The music was heavenly, the companionship the finest, the dancing divine. The finest wine flowed in sparkling abundance, and goblets were never empty. Music, dancing and all the entertainments were held between each course of the feast.

King Richard watched Robin and Melisende conversing quietly. "Is there any other more stunning couple than the Earl of Huntington and the Countess of Huntington?" he asked jovially.

"There is no other couple like Robin and Melisende," Carter of Stretton agreed with a large smile.

"They are a stunning couple! They are also devoted servants," Henry de Champagne opined.

"You are fortunate indeed, Robin, to possess such a treasure. There is not a man here tonight who does not envy your good luck. We hope you realize that," the Earl of Leicester exclaimed.

The Earl of Leicester confided in Robin that the King had thrown a vast fortune on the wedding of his beloved cousin and his grand favorite. Richard ordered to bring all the flowers for decorations from the gardens of the Castle of Limassol on Cyprus more than a month before the wedding. Leicester also said that many green decorations were used to give an honor to Robin's adventures in Sherwood.

Robin lowered his head, his brow furrowing. "I just hope I would never let Melisende down."

King Richard raised a quizzical brow. "Why are you so sad, Robin?"

Robin's face blanched, and, in a voice slightly trembling, spoke. "I fear for Melisende's safety. I am hated by so many people. I can expose her life to many dangers."

"Am I not the King of England? Am I not powerful?" The Lionheart spoke pompously. "Aren't you married to Lady Melisende Plantagenet, my beloved cousin? Aren't you my friend?"

After Robin's return to Acre, Robin quickly discovered that nothing changed in his relationship with King Richard, who lavished him with his affection as much as it had been earlier. When they were together in private, Richard rarely used royal etiquette. Today, the King treated Robin not as his close friend, but more like a family member, which made Robin proud and happy.

"I know, sire, but–" The terror which had been gripping Robin's heart miraculously relaxed its hold. Although it was his function to protect his King, he was conscious of the extraordinary sense of security which only his proximity to Richard could give him.

The King cut him off sharply. "Never fear Prince John, for I will always be at your side. And John loves Melisende and he is unlikely to touch you or any of your descendants after your wedding to her."

"There is also the Sheriff of Nottingham."

"Vaisey would be a fool if he touched Melisende, who is loved by John and me; if he does something to her, it would be his death sentence signed by both John and me. But Vaisey is not a fool."

"I beg my pardon for talking… about that."

Richard patted his shoulder. "No need to apologize. I have always valued your honesty," he said with a genuine friendly affection. "Believe me I know what I am doing. So, then, you should stop driving yourself to madness with your fears."

Robin remained silent, his gaze bouncing anxiously between the King and Melisende, who was talking to Lady Catherine de Mathefelon, her lady-in-waiting. Then he stared at the King, smiling. "Thank you, milord. I am eternally indebted to you for your attention to my humble personality."

The King patted Robin's shoulder. "Robin, you are my friend, and I deeply care for you," he said in a personal manner. "You owe me nothing. You, of all people in the world, have been the most loyal and dearest friend. I am indebted to you, for you saved my life so many times. You have my undying gratitude, though it is not enough to repay my debt to you."

Robin was embarrassed. "Sire, I don't deserve your… high praise."

The lion drew away, but still without taking his eyes from his favorite. "Robin, you deserve my highest praises. You are a kind-hearted and noble-minded man, and I regard you all the more for it."

"I am glad that you consider me your friend, milord."

"And how can it be otherwise?" The lion chuckled.

Robin breathed easier. "Of course."

§§§

From the corner of his eye, Robin intercepted Melisende's enigmatic glances at him, and he knew that she smiled when she didn't want that, though she wasn't unhappy tonight. Her violet eyes intrigued him most of all in her appearance, for they were of such a rare color and were like hooks to doom, with all the violet shades whirling and changing, entrancing him to the core, to the brink of sanity.

Robin took a goblet of wine to his lips. "Melisende, you are sad but you are trying to put on a serene face," he asserted, slowly drinking wine, his eyes full of concern. "Did I do something wrong?"

A wistful expression crossed her face, but in an instant it turned blank. "I am truly sorry that your life has been turned upside down. You had to marry me out of loyalty to Richard, for political reasons. I am sure that you don't want to be tied to me with bonds of loveless marriage."

Robin placed a goblet of wine on the table. He took her small hand in his and gave her a penetrating gaze. "I said once that I wouldn't have married you if I didn't want to, even if King Richard asked me to." He smirked. "But you are not ugly, squint-eyed or bandy-legged, so that I find my wife bearable."

Melisende laughed. "I am never bored with you."

He winked at her. "I am glad."

"And so am I."

Robin traced the line of her jaw lightly with his finger. She felt the caress and smiled enchantingly, her eyes wide-open. "I know everything is strange just now, but I hope we both will get accustomed."

"Yes," she said with hope. "Will I see you tonight?"

"Yeah, of course." Robin grinned at her, his fingers intertwining with hers and squeezing them.

Melisende lowered her head. "As you wish, Lord Huntington."

"Are you again so official to tease me? My name is Robin."

She laughed. "Robin is like a little bird, and it suits you, for you look so slender and so light that you remind me of a little bird."

"Oh," Robin breathed, grinning sheepishly. "Leicester was the first one who started calling me little bird, and others took an example from him…" His grin widened. "But I like it. It sounds beautiful and lyrical."

"I will call you Robert, then."

Robin shook his head. "I hate when people call me Robert…"

"I know."

"I know that you know," he retorted. "Please let me be Robin – never Robert."

"It depends on your behavior." She grinned, her violet eyes sparkling. "If you annoy and infuriate me, you will be Robert. If you are good and entertaining, then you will be Robin."

Robin frowned, glancing at her, but his eyes twinkled in mischief. "You want to infuriate me, right?"

She smiled enigmatically. "Of course, Robin."

"Oh, Madame! God help me in this marriage!"

She didn't share Robin's mischievous spirits; not before the wedding night. "God help me, too."

Robin was caught up in the festive mood. He allowed himself to relax for the first time in many months, his heartache and pain being soothed by the music and the general merriment of the evening. With exasperated indulgence, he launched himself into the pleasantries of the celebration, enjoying music. The provided entertainments raised Robin's flagging spirits and gave him confidence.

As Melisende was called by Henry de Champagne to collect wedding gifts, Robin sat beside King Richard, talking to the Knights Templar, including Sir Gilbert Horal, who had been recently elected Grand Master of Knights Templar. Everyone congratulated Robin with his marriage and his victory over Robert de Sablé. Robin was happy when the Knights Templar finally we gone, bowing deeply and giving their blessings.

"Oh, they are gone," Robin said, relieved.

"And we have a minute alone," King Richard continued.

"A short moment, I suspect," Robin said, frowning at the sight of the crowded entrance where more Knights Templar stood, waiting for an opportunity to approach them.

Richard bent his head down. "How do you feel being married to my cousin?" he whispered into Robin's ear, forgetting the royal protocol and his royal "we". He pulled back from his favorite, his brows raised quizzically. "It is an arranged political marriage, but I hope you are content. Tell me the truth."

"_Melisende is an unusual and interesting lady_," Robin acknowledged eagerly, feeling the King's breath on his skin. "_I can never lie to you; I cannot say that I love her, but I am not indifferent to her_."

"We told you that Melisende is a remarkable lady. If one ever meets her, one will never forget her."

Robin shook his head, as if to clear it. "_I feel emotionally attached to Melisende. She understands me and never doubts my choices_," he confessed, a slow flush spreading over his face. "_And she… doesn't question my loyalty to you. I am grateful that you arranged this match for me_."

The King eyed the younger man suspiciously. "Are you content? Are you telling me the truth?"

"Sire, I have been only truthful so far, but I should start telling you many falsehoods. Then I will finally have the sparring match you have promised me as a punishment. Save me, then, please!"

Richard exploded with laugher. He drew Robin into his strong arms with a movement of spontaneous tenderness. The lion embraced his Captain for a while, his large hand wrapped around Robin's back. Then the monarch thundered his palm on Robin's back and pulled away.

The King's lips stretched in a kind smile. "It would be hardly worthy for you to have a fight with me. You know that you will lose, Robin, and you don't want to be subjected to the unmerited disgrace."

"I have no doubt that I will never be better than you are with a sword. But why can't I pretend at least for a while that I wish to tempt fate?"

"Pretend, but don't cross the line," the King said, a fake warning in his tone, his eyes twinkling.

"I will try to stay near the line, but I can promise nothing more." The King was in an elevated mood, and Robin could go on his familiar grinning and teasing; he knew that his liege enjoyed their mocking arguments and skirmishes, and he always used his chance.

"You are incorrigible!" Richard laughed.

"I am." Robin laughed.

"You still care for Lady Marian, don't you?"

"It doesn't stop just because you want it to," Robin supplied breathlessly.

"I think she also cares for you, as well as for the other man, Guy of Gisborne."

Robin stared at his liege in surprise. "Sire?"

"Robin, I mean that Lady Marian cares for you, but her heart is divided. And, don't get me wrong, but my opinion is that there is nothing worse than a marriage to a lady with a divided heart."

"_I have realized that. I no longer hate Marian. I have accepted her choices. I just want to forget her_."

"Good, Robin. This is a new sentiment from you that you, with all your good looks, natural charm, and legendary reputation, may be rejected by a woman. I know that it injured your heart and your pride. But rejections happen, and we have to move on. Just remember that soul is barren which doesn't invest itself in affection and love."

The Earl of Huntington gave a husky chuckle. "I am not in love, but I am content with what I have. I didn't forget the past, but I no longer view a marriage to another woman as impossible."

"I will give you advice." The King took Robin's hand in his, his eyes dancing with mirth. "Stop trying to catch the unattainable star in the distant sky. There are roses and stars behind you. Don't let them fade. Take what God and life give you. You may love someone from the past, but there is the present."

"You are right."

"Promise me, Robin. Promise me." The King wanted him to be happy, not wasting his life chasing after the shadows of the past and craving to have what he couldn't have.

"I promise." Robin, slightly amazed but pleased by his liege's comment, threw him a bright look.

The wedding feast continued. Courtly love songs and long chivalry ballads were performed by Blondel de Nesle, one of the most important of the early trouvères, the northern French poets following in the tradition of the Provençal troubadours. Being King Richard's favorite minstrel, Blondel was taken by the lion on the Crusade, and the lion kept him close to himself to enjoy the courtly love in Outremer.

Born of Norman parents and brought up in a homely Sussex manor, Blondel de Nesle had never been out of England, except for that wonderful but swiftly terminated sojourn with King Richard in Navarre and then Richard's offer to accompany him on the Crusade to the Holy Land, which the young man gladly accepted, considering it a great honor. He thought that his presence in Outremer in the King's closest entourage was a part of his amazing luck that life could have ever given him.

Blondel de Nesle was lying at Melisende's feet singing "_Se savoient mon tourment_", one of his tragic love songs. King Richard, Robin, and everyone else were listening intently. The song was about for an indifferent beautiful lady who was mostly unattainable but very desirable for a poor poet, who was madly in love with her and whose heart was bleeding.

Richard, Melisende, and Robin were listening to the song as if they were entranced. Melisende's face was alight with gladness, for every woman loved to be courted and admired through his music, with deep emotions and undeniable sensuality.

_Se savoient mon tourment_

_Et auques de mon afaire_

_Cil qui demandent conment_

_Je puis tant de chançons faire,_

_Il diroient vraiement_

_Que nus a chanter n'entent_

_Qui mieuz s'en deüst retraire;_

_Maiz pour ce chant seulement_

_Que je muir pluz doucement._

King Richard looked at Blondel. "Play a little more loudly, Blondel. It is such a pleasant tune."

As the old troubadour sang a song of courtly love, Robin felt his heart beating faster, luxuriating in the mere rhythm of his soft and appealing voice, the vocal chords of Occitan, which he knew very well since childhood. His mind brought back the images of Queen Eleanor's court he loved with all his heart and missed. He had a feeling as if aristocratic music of troubadours sounded in his ears. Engraved into his memory were those weeks when he spent evenings, sitting at the lavishly covered with meals table "_in __hall of lost footsteps_", the so-called_ La Salle des Pas Perdus_, or somewhere in Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine's ducal apartments at the Maubergeonne Tower, completely entranced watching the tumblers and listening to the Occitan troubadours.

When Robin lived in Aquitaine during the knighthood training and then for more than a year during Richard's last rebellion against his father, he devoted much time to studying the art of troubadours. He spoke excellent Occitan, and he enjoyed the art of troubadours. He considered the advent of love the troubadours proclaimed serious, all-consuming occupation. He admired the poets of the southland, which they created not for gain but for pleasure, not in cultured Latin but in the mellifluous vernacular of _the langue d'oc_, not for men but primarily for the women of great castles and manors.

Blondel continued singing, all the eyes in the chamber attached to the troubadour.

_Trop par me grieze forment_

_Que cele est si debonaire_

_Qui tant de dolour me rent_

_Ce qu'a tout le mont doit plaire;_

_Maiz ne me grevast nïent,_

_Se la tres bele au cors gent_

_Me feïst touz ces maus traire._

_Maiz ce m'ocit vraiement_

_Qu'el ne set que pour li sent._

Robin gave a tragic, strident laugh that would have been painful to hear if it hadn't been so quiet. Blondel sang that the poet's heart was broken, his heart like a large bleeding wound, aching for the beautiful mistress; but she was cold and indifferent, and the poet couldn't have her even in her dreams, eventually dying for his love.

Blondel's poem somewhat mirrored the situation with Robin's love for Marian and the tragedy with her betrayal of his love for her. As Blondel sang that love was slowly killing the poet, tormenting him, Robin felt himself in the role of the poet; rage and jealousy tormented him with the flames of hell, if only he allowed himself to think about that.

_Se seüst certeinnement _

_Mon martire et mon contraire _

_Cele por qui je consent _

_Que l'amour me tient et maire, _

_Je croi bien qu'alegement _

_M'envoiast procheinnement; _

_Quar par droit le deüst faire, _

_Se reguars a escïent _

_De ses biaux ieus ne me ment._

Richard turned his gaze at Robin, and his eyes rested gravely on the younger man's face which was ghostly pale and devoid of any emotions, but his cold eyes were full of pain. Robin intercepted the lion's concerned gaze, and he shot his liege a ghost of his usual charming smile.

Robin felt his heart thudding loudly in his chest as his memory recalled with ruthless clarity all Marian's promises and words of love and then her final cold lecture about his loyalty to the King. Helpless rage slashed through him, and he swore to cut all ties to Marian, to forget her.

_Chançons, va isnelement_

_A la bel au cler viaire,_

_Si li di tant seulement:_

_Qui de bons est, souëf flaire._

_Ne l'os prier autrement,_

_Quar trop pensai hautement,_

_Si n'en puis mon cuer retraire._

_Et se pitiez ne l'en prent,_

_Blondiaus muert, que pluz n'atent._

Robin shook his head, fighting off the image of Marian's face and banishing it from his mind. He promised himself that of his love for Marian nothing would remain but a vague nostalgia, a stirring of his loins whenever he happened to think of the beautiful, courageous and cruel brunette, coupled with a somewhat selfish sense of relief at having escaped from fatal temptation. He persuaded himself that had he decided to stay in Nottingham, watching Gisborne and Marian, he would have turned his back on the supreme gift which fate and King Richard had offered him – Lady Melisende Plantagenet.

"_Se savoient mon tourment_," Robin muttered to himself. "_Et auques de mon afaire, Cil qui demandent conment Je puis tant de chançons faire..._ "

Unknown to Robin, Melisende kept her violet eyes firmly fixed on her husband's, so that the words of love in the song seemed to be about Robin's love story alone, and possibly, hers, if he broke her heart, she mused. At that instant, Robin's eyes met hers, and quiet plaintive words of the lament fell from his lips. Robin drove the thought of Marian and Gisborne out of his mind with an impatient little shiver, but still the sense of betrayal lingered.

Blondel finished and silence fell in the chamber. Robin, eyes lowered, let his hands slip down on to his knees, feeling suddenly horribly nervous and yet excited in anticipation of his wedding night. There was loud, heated applause for Blondel's performance, and Robin turned his head to the King and the others.

"Magnificent and sad," Robin said reverently, his pale blue eyes glowing, their color lighting to nearly translucent.

"This is heavenly," Melisende said rapturously.

King Richard smiled at Robin warmly. "Enjoying?"

"Yes. You know, sire, I am very fond of music," Robin said.

Melisende smiled. "Richard, it is good that you keep Blondel here."

Smiling earnestly, the King gazed at the troubadour who began singing a new couplet. "Blondel makes life here more bearable. His gentle songs are better than music of our trumpeters."

Robin laughed, with a touch of heartiness. "Well, I cannot disagree." His face turned a little wistful. "I miss the court of love and Aquitaine so much. I loved being there."

The lion's face also changed into wistfulness. "You are not alone, friend. I miss Aquitaine, too."

Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, smiled lazily. "Robin, you have only northern blood in your veins. Yet, you are so fond of troubadours and you speak Occitan so well. I have been amazed by this fact since I met you in Poitou more than ten years ago."

Immediately alarmed, the lion turned to Leicester. "Robert, why do you consider Robin's preferences strange?"

Leicester shrugged. "A rare Saxon lord is so interested in courtly love so much and misses Aquitaine so much."

"Yeah, it is just me," Robin teased, slowly draining his goblet of wine.

"Certainly, Robin Hood." Leicester smiled.

"But I am not a pure Saxon lord," Robin remarked. "My mother, Lady Elizabeth of Locksley, was born in England, but her mother – my grandmother – was actually from Aquitaine."

The Earl of Leicester chuckled. "Oh, I didn't know that."

Robin winked at his friend. "Well, now you know."

"I do." Leicester laughed.

"And don't forget that troubadours praise high ideals and promote common virtue, which is consistent with Robin Hood's ideals," Robin said, but with a touch of wistfulness he was unable to repress.

"Ah, I forgot, Robin Hood! I am so sorry!" Leicester gasped in amazed delight.

They laughed pleasantly at Leicester's joke, everyone except Richard; the King laughed unpleasantly, almost mechanically, his eyes doleful for an instant before turning blank. Richard refilled his goblet with wine and made a sip, his expression thoughtful. Melisende noticed subtle changes in her cousin's demeanor; their eyes locked in a private moment of communication, until the King tore his gaze from hers and turned away, shifting into his chair uncomfortably.

The lion sighed sadly. "Robert, we love when you put on your court airs, but we don't appreciate your remarks about Robin's unusual origins and tastes. We don't like that." To show his displeasure, he again became more formal and used his royal "we".

"I am sorry, my liege," Leicester drawled, genuinely astonished. "It will never happen again."

"Let's forget about that, Robert. It is alright," the lion dismissed his favorite's concerns.

Melisende and Robert looked at Richard in amazement. Robin felt chills dance up his backbone, sensing that there was something behind the façade of the King's blankness. Robin stared at the King, his eyes locking with the lion's; the King smiled warmly and Robin smiled back, which was noticed by the lion who gave him a smile of rare warmth, the meaning of which Robin couldn't understand.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_Vaisey, Guy and a few other companions finally depart to the Holy Land. Well, this chapter is more about Robin than Guy and others, as the first chapter was mainly about Guy. We are only in several steps from the shocking, dramatic, and head-spinning events in Acre. Some new characters appear in the next chapter (maybe you understand whom I mean). The culmination of part 2 of this long epic is between chapters 6 and 10, though much drama begins in chapter 4._

_As we see, Marian and Isabella are taken hostage by Vaisey, who is planning to use the two unfortunate women as a method to handle and pressure Guy. Poor Guy! Guy is trapped by Vaisey who wants him to kill the King, and, as you probably understand, Guy is going to have a difficult time in Acre (but not only Guy is going to have great troubles). I remind you that Guy doesn't feel very enthusiastic about killing King Richard. _

_Do you have any interesting thoughts about Isabella? She plays an important role in this story. She will be heavily featured in the upcoming chapters._

_Robin is again conducting reconnaissance in disguise, though he fails to find Vaisey's allies. I used the plan of ancient Acre when I wrote the part about Robin's strolls in Acre. I also decided to finally give you some backstory for Djaq, for I like her as a character._

_I hope you liked the descriptions of Robin's marriage to Melisende. If we suppose that Robin indeed has such a close relationship with the King and all the more marries the King's cousin, then the wedding ceremony must surely be grand and splendid. Actually, I can confess that writing this chapter was a sheer pleasure for me because it is about calm and beautiful events in Acre, and I enjoyed writing about the wedding ceremony and the feast, especially the part related to courtly love._

_By the time Vaisey, Guy, and others arrive in the Holy Land, Robin is already married to Melisende for several months. The important twist is that Robin finally stopped hating Marian and accepted her choices, though it doesn't mean that he has completely forgotten her and that he isn't hurting. Robin is not in love, but he is surely not as heartbroken and devastated as he used to be in part 1 of this long epic when Marian married Guy. Well, Robin deserves some happiness and peace, at least a little – don't forget that Vaisey is on the way to Acre and he is not going to stop his attempts to kill Richard._

_I hope you liked my idea to add in this chapter some information about Blondel and his real songs! I think the mysterious relationship between King Richard and Blondel is one of the coolest things about romances in the life of King Richard. Moreover, Richard Plantagenet was known to be fond of music and was nurtured in the troubadour culture of Queen Eleanor's southern homeland, so some additions about Aquitanian music are quite valuable in this story._

_If you remember the triangle Robin/King Richard/Guy and the truth about Robin's relationship with the King, you may see why I give you some information about Robin's supposed love and interest in Aquitanian culture. By the way, on the show, many aspects of Robin's personality were a kind of similar to some qualities of character, which the inhabitants of Poitou had. Take Robin's love for theatrics, which was not a typical feature for many Saxons and was easily found in almost every southern soul!_

_It is not the last time when King Richard's beloved troubadour Blondel and his songs are featured here. As I am very fond of courtly love and Aquitanian culture, I promise that there will be much time we devote to the royal court in Aquitaine (at least two-three chapters, but it happens much later). I love to use the concept of courtly love and art of troubadours in writing because it helps portray emotions and feelings of your characters, like in this chapter Robin's feelings for Marian are associated with the song._

_To make sure that we are on same page, I want to remind you of the full names in this story (they are rarely used). They are Sir Robert James Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntington (very similar to legends); Sir Guy Crispin FitzCorbet of Gisborne (like on the show, except that Guy has a surname FitzCorbet); Lady Marian Isabella Fitzwalter of Knighton (like on the show); and Lady Melisende Adelaide Plantagenet, Countess de Bordeaux (fictional character); and other characters._

_Did you like it? Or did you hate it? Thank you.__  
><em>

**_All the reviews are very welcome, even ones with harsh critique. I think all kinds of feedback are precious, and I always try to find in critique something useful to improve the plotline of a particular story and improve my own writing. _**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, Amaranthe Athénaïs_


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Secrets in the darkness**

While everyone was involved in the lively conversation and celebrated the wedding in the great hall, there were two people who sought solitude for an important conversation. Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, and Lady Melisende Plantagenet, the Countess of Huntington and Countess de Bordeaux in her own right, slipped from the banqueting hall and went out into the garden. They had to talk about their secret they were keeping from King Richard, Robin, and the world. Melisende wanted to talk to Robert, and he could never refuse to give her any gift.

It was a little chilly and fresh, but it was still pleasant to be in the magnificent garden at the Citadel of Acre. There was no desert around them. The green leaves of the trees gleamed like emeralds, and the clear water of the fountains shimmered in the rays of the setting sun. The flowers in the flowerbeds danced with a thousand colors amid the sinking sun.

"Are you alright, Melisende?" Robert inquired with concern as soon as they stepped into the garden.

They were alone in this part of the garden. They could hear only distant sounds of the music Blondel was playing for the guests, as well as the twittering of birds.

Melisende slid her long fingers along the bare skin of her palm, her eyes a bright violet in the fading afternoon light. "I am a little dizzy. I suppose we have been indoors too long."

Robert nodded. "We also had too much wine." He slipped his arm through hers, leading her in the depths of the garden. "Come. You will feel better now."

They slowly descended the steps on the other side of the veranda, and crossed the terraced garden to the artificial pond, where they stopped to rest. They sat down on the bench near the fountain. They sat quietly, gazing at the water and the dark sky, breathing in the scent of the fresh sea air.

Melisende kept her eyes on the gardens, but she laid her hand on Robert's shoulder. "Lord Leicester, there is something between us that cannot be easily forgotten."

Robert was silent for a while before he started speaking in a low voice. "It is indeed very difficult to forget many things, especially you, Melisende." He sighed heavily. "Remember the last time you came and sat so close to me?" He took her hand in his. "I wanted to see you so much. I needed to see you."

She turned her gaze at him. "You wanted to tell me that you didn't love me."

"Yes." Robert hung his head. "I wanted you to know the truth. I wanted you to know that my heart was given to a woman whom I would never be able to marry." He let out a sigh of grief. "Never ever."

"You could have told me that you didn't love me before… we started out relations."

"Melisende," Robert called helplessly, under his breath, "I feel guilty that I misled you. You of all ladies never deserved that."

She smiled weakly. "I also misled myself that I loved you, Robert."

"Yes, you did." He sighed. "I told you that you didn't love me."

"And you were right."

Robert leaned down and kissed her on the forehead; it was a friendly kiss, without passion or hunger for each other. "Whatever happened between us, I wanted to apologize to you for misleading you and for every other time in my life when I could have caused you pain."

She smiled at him. "No worries, Robert. I understand everything."

Robert looked into her violet eyes. "In one Saracen raid near Ascalon, I saved King Richard's life, but I was severely injured in my right side. Everyone thought that I would die, but I survived my grievous wound; then the King ordered me to go home to recuperate, like he sent home Robin a year earlier." He averted his eyes and stared into a distance. "On the way to Normandy, I changed my route and went to Paris, where spent two weeks with the woman who is my only true love; she again broke my heart." He swallowed heavily. "I left her in Paris and went to Normandy, to Caen, where I met you, Melisende."

"And you decided that I could have helped you forget your pain," Melisende finished.

Robert turned his head to face her, his expression apologetic. "Melisende, I spent six years in the Holy Land, surrounded by death and bloodshed. And then I finally returned home, tired, recovering from my wound, and disillusioned with the war." He smiled radiantly. "You were such a beautiful girl of fourteen when we departed to the Holy Land, and I was stunned to see you after so many years." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "I was stunned to discover that a little beautiful girl became the most beautiful woman whom I have ever seen in my entire life."

"Oh, Lord Robert, was I really so beautiful and so tempting?" She smiled, showing her white teeth.

"Well, Lady Melisende, you know very well that every man ceases breathing and is at your feet as soon as he sees your face," Robert answered teasingly, smiling. He brushed a lock of red-gold hair from her forehead. "Many people say that you are as beautiful as Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine once was, and I agree with them." He let out a sigh. "You are much more beautiful than my only true love has ever been." He cursed aloud. "You seduced me with your beauty and charms, and I quickly gave in."

"I was charmed by you, Robert. You were the most handsome man I have ever seen," she said.

He raised a brow. "And Robin? Isn't he handsome?"

Melisende rolled her eyes, knowing that he again teased her. "Robin is very handsome and his light charm is overpowering – it is exactly what I like in men. I have never been attracted to men with dark and dangerous handsomeness, and there is something very light around you and Robin." Her heart shouted to say something else about Robin, but she forced herself to remain still and silent.

Robert winked at her. "Well, I have already realized that you like Robin. Girls like him very much."

She playfully slapped him on his shoulder. "No need to remind me that Robin and you are ladies men." Her expression evolved into significance. "But I met you before I accidentally stumbled into the grown-up Robin of Locksley in the moonlit garden in Limassol." She looked away from him a melancholic smile. "I sought private meetings with you. I thought that I fell in love with you."

"You thought that I was the love of your life, but it wasn't true."

"Yes," she confirmed. "And it was my fault that you gave in to my charms."

"I would say we both are responsible for our affair."

They sat in a solemn silence listening to the distant sounds of the melodies Blondel was playing for the guests, watching a bird swoop down from the sky and fly low, above the water's surface in the fountain. It was like a dream for both of them – a perfect but very sad moment in time.

"You made me so happy, Robert. You didn't love me, but it was so good to be with you," she stated tenderly. Yet, simmering beneath her unimaginably profound optimism and joy was a fear that their secret would ruin her life and marriage.

"And it was good for me to be with you," Robert replied. "I never believed I would ever experience anything like moments of joy and bliss you gave me. It was tremendous – it was great." He cradled her chin in his hand and looked into her eyes. "Thank you, Melisende."

Melisende smiled. "So we are friends, aren't we?"

Robert smiled back. "Yes, we are."

She lowered her head, looking at the ground. "My wedding night is today."

"And you are worried that you are not a maid, aren't you?"

She raised her eyes, staring into his eyes. "Yes."

A dark shadow crossed his features. "I offered you to talk to Robin three months ago and tell him everything about us, but you assured me that you would solve the problem."

"I was a coward." Her voice was barely a whisper.

He tensed. "I should have talked to him a long time ago."

"Robin won't be impressed with me," she said, pulling away slightly on the bench.

"Do you want me to give you a good advice that will make Robin yours forever?" He gave her a mischievous look, and she nodded at him, not quite understanding what he was talking about.

"Tell me, Robert." Her eyes were pleading. "Please tell me."

"Tell Robin the truth tonight, when he comes to you for the wedding night," Robert said seriously. "Tell Robin everything about us. Tell him only the truth – the absolute truth."

She looked terrified. "Robin will reject me! He will insult me! He will hate me!"

He shook his head. "No, he won't."

Melisende blinked. Her face had a strangely hopeful look, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. "No man can ever be happy to learn that his new wife was… with his best friend."

He gave her a nearly angelic smile. "Melisende, you don't know Robin as much as I know him," he said sincerely, his eyes compassionate and kind, not mischievous and mocking as usual. "I met Robin at Prince Richard's court twelve years ago, and we quickly became friends. Robin and I are alike in many things, and our characters are so similar that at times I myself don't believe in that."

She smiled faintly. "I have noticed that."

"I swear Robin doesn't care whether you are a maid or not," he declared with conviction. "On the contrary, he doesn't like maids. He has never ever taken a maid as a lover, except only once in his life. He is an honest man, and, besides, he doesn't like inexperienced women as lovers."

"I am his wife, not a lover," she objected.

"It doesn't matter," Robert continued with the same confidence. "Robin will listen to you, and he will understand you. Most importantly, he doesn't want to deal with maids anymore."

Melisende looked amazed. "Why?"

Robert turned his gaze toward the horizon in a distance. "Robin was twice betrothed to Lady Marian Fitzwalter of Knighton whom he loved very much," he began in sorrowful tones. "She broke their first betrothal before we went to the Holy Land. They parted on very bad terms more than seven years ago. Robin offered to marry her before leaving Nottingham, but she was so angry that she wished him to never come back and threw her ring into his face. She was blinded by anger."

Her face contorted into a shocked grimace. "Wished him to never come back? Is she mad?" She shook her head in disbelief. "And why was she angry if he was doing his duty to his King and country?"

Robert laughed. "Lady Marian believed that Robin only wanted to achieve glory on the battlefield," he answered. "And Robin was an utter fool because he didn't explain to her that he craved to become a real man, not a spoiled boy lord as other nobles called him. He felt he was unworthy of her love. He didn't tell her that he wanted to become a strong man fighting for England and the King of England." He laughed almost tragically. "Actually, I had the same thoughts when I joined the Crusade. I was a naïve young boy, like Robin, but it is out of scope for this conversation."

She scowled. "But she wished him to never come back!"

He made a helpless gesture. "Lady Marian didn't wish Robin to die. She said those words in despair and anger, which clouded her judgment," he explained. "In anger, we often speak about things we don't mean and don't want to say." He rubbed his temple. "Lady Marian loved Robin, but she wanted him to stay and live in Locksley for the rest of his life. She never understood him. She never looked into his naked soul, though I have to say that Robin never gave her a chance to do that."

Melisende smiled charmingly. "How, may I ask, is it familiar, Lord Leicester?"

Robert grinned sheepishly. "It is my case, too, my lady."

"Robin is always guarding his true emotions, like you, Robert."

"Yes."

"And what happened to Lady Marian?" She was curious.

"When Robin came back to England, they reconciled in some time," he continued. "Robin proposed to Marian when he lived in the forest, and she accepted. She told him that she loved him." Then his face evolved into resentment. "But in the end she broke his heart."

"What did she do?"

Robert ran his eyes over the garden. "Lady Marian of Knighton seems to have been torn between Robin and another man, a very bad man. She married Sir Guy of Gisborne, the same villainous man who once tried to kill King Richard and wounded Robin. She even didn't break her second betrothal to Robin before marrying Robin's sworn enemy. She betrayed him in the worst possible way."

Melisende shook her head in apparent disgust. "Good God, Lady Marian seems to be out of her mind! She exchanged Robin, loyal, handsome, brave, and honest, for a despicable traitor!" She shrugged. "It would have been better if she were sitting at home staring into the fire and doing her embroidery instead of confusing herself with her feelings for two men and breaking hearts of those who love her!"

Robert sat very still, his eyes narrow. "Melisende, you are too harsh."

"No, I am not harsh!" She stared down, at the lawns that showed the effects of the thousand rakes the gardeners applied to their surface to make the place a majestic oasis in the desert.

"You don't know Lady Marian. She is not a bad lady – she is a very interesting and beautiful creature."

"You met her? When?"

He looked somewhat wistful as his mind traveled back to the events of distant past. "When Robin and I were fifteen, in several months after the end of our knighthood training, I spent with Robin the whole autumn and winter in Huntington and in Locksley," he responded in a flat voice. "I often met Lady Marian at the Locksley Manor when she came there with her father, who managed Robin's estates. Her father and she also came to the court in Poitiers when Robin lived there for a year."

"It is enough time to assess a person."

"I didn't like her very much, though she was besotted with Robin and he returned her affection."

"Why didn't you like her?"

"I respected Lady Marian and I saw that she was a remarkable girl, I would say a unique girl, but I never considered her a suitable match for Robin." Robert ran his hand through his hair; he drew a deep breath. "Many years ago, I told Robin my opinion – I said that he shouldn't have proposed to Marian before the Crusade. He didn't listen to me, and then he was rejected."

Melisende cocked her head to one side. "They are so incompatible?"

Robert shrugged. "They could have been together, but they both made many mistakes." He tapped a finger on the bench. "I have always thought that Marian would be unable to understand Robin, at least until she grew up and matured enough to be able to deal with Robin's complicated inner world," he enlightened. "When Robin was in the Holy Land, before he was sent to England, many times I recommended that he forgot about her. I told him that she didn't deserve him." He grimaced. "Well, I was right. Anyway, what is done can never be undone."

Melisende looked shocked. Her mouth turned dry, the dark violet flame coruscating in her eyes. "For the love of Heaven, Robert, tell me what Lady Marian could find in this traitor if she was betrothed to the most handsome, most charming, most loyal, most compassionate, and noblest man on Earth!" She spoke passionately and impatiently. "It seems that this lady hurt Robin very much."

"You are again very harsh and unfair," Robert gave a slight rebuke. With his pale green eyes glittering, he stared into her stormy violet eyes. "Lady Marian broke Robin's heart, but he also broke her heart when he left for the war. They are even-steven in breaking each other's hearts." He paused, lowering his voice. "But I cannot approve of what she did to Robin."

Her heart constricted in pain. "She wronged him."

"Melisende, they wronged each other in many ways – too many ways," Robert said in a steady voice. "Robin was a fool and did many… questionable things in their difficult relationship. He also broke her heart when he left for the war. He… always chose his duty over his love for her, and I understand why she didn't want to be with Robin and wait for the King's return." He sighed. "But Robin is my best friend and I am on his side because Marian's marriage to Guy of Gisborne caused Robin much pain."

"I understand."

"Robin and Marian are not saints, and they both are at fault for the failure of their relationship."

She nodded. "One party cannot be guilty."

"And that's why, Melisende, you cannot hurt Robin again," Robert retorted. "If you don't tell Robin the truth tonight, you will make him disappointed in you later." He smiled. "If you reveal the truth to him, even disclosing my name as your lover, Robin will accept the fact and everything will be fine."

She nodded numbly. "I understand."

Robert glanced attentively at Melisende, then took her hands in his. "Melisende, you possess a great talent to understand human nature much more deeply than others could ever do that." He squeezed her hand. "You understand Robin so well, although you know him for several months. You see through Robin's mask of the golden boy – you can see what he truly keeps in his heart."

"I am trying," she admitted humbly.

He chuckled. "It is your natural talent to see through the people," he praised. "I believe that you can make Robin happy or at least content."

She tossed her head. "I will do everything I can to make him happy."

His gaze turned ever-penetrating. "Don't hurt Robin. Never hurt him. He deserves to be happy," he whispered. "Tell Robin the truth about us. Only the truth."

"I will do that," she murmured. "Tonight."

Robert looked into the depths of her eyes. "It is a right decision, Melisende." A faint smile touched his lips. "If you confess to Robin in everything, you will make him respect you and be proud of you for your honesty and bravery. Believe me that he will not reject you."

Melisende wasn't optimistic. "I hope so much that he won't start loathing me."

He smiled heartily. "You do like Robin, don't you?" It sounded as a statement, not a question.

"I do like Robin. I do want him," Melisende whispered earnestly, the color high in her cheeks. "Robert, you are right. I want Robin so much that I can hardly bear it."

"But you wish you didn't," Robert assumed.

Melisende gave a nod. "_Yes, I can't deny it. I am drawn to Robin like a moth to a flame. I feel that if I give in to temptation and passion I feel for him, I will burn myself for him_." She touched her forehead, and she gasped as her mind replayed the image of Robin's handsome face and his cheeky grin. "But no matter how much I tell myself that I don't need to feel such a great affection for him, I can't stop myself. It is as natural as life and death, sunset and nightfall, hell and paradise."

Her words made him smile. "Melisende, you are falling for my best friend."

"I love Robin of Locksley," she confessed despite her fears and anxieties. She took a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart, and then went on. "_I love Robin in a hundred different ways – for his bravery, foolhardiness, compassion, kindness, arrogance, annoyance, righteousness, honesty, madness, and theatrics – for all that is true about him, for all his strengths and weaknesses_." She glanced at him with profound sadness. "And you are right that I never felt something like that for you." She placed a hand on her breast. "What I feel for Robin is something deeper, much deeper. It takes all my heart."

Robert smiled at her. "It is exactly what I thought. You are in real love with my best friend."

"But he will never love me back!" She exclaimed, her expression a cameo of sheer sorrow.

He let out a rich chuckle. "Robin cares for you. He is greatly attracted to you." He paused, looking at her with a grin that splashed across his face. "Believe me that Robin will fall in love with you. Be patient and give him time. Become his friend and confident."

She doubted that he was right. "Why do you think that he will fall in love with me?"

"I know my friend very well," Robert said emphatically. "Robin will never completely forget Marian, and she is going to continue having a strong effect on him." His last words sounded contemptuous. "Yet, Robin will eventually either fall out of love with her or he will be able to love you, not forgetting her. He will surely love you in the end, maybe in his own way and not with all his heart, but he will love you."

Melisende shook her head miserably, and despite herself, she felt tears flood to her eyes. "I don't know, Robert. I want to believe you, but I doubt that you are right."

Robert brushed tears away from her cheeks. "Believe me that Robin will be yours, and I am sure that it will happen quite soon," he said with overpowering confidence. "He is already disappointed in Marian. And disappointment and betrayal cool off passion and kill love. Love runs out in the end."

"Thank you, Robert," Melisende said with gratitude. "Can we go back now?"

He offered her his hand, smiling. "I agree, Melisende. It would be best if we returned to the great hall until they remarked our absence."

Melisende struggled to smile and appear confident. "Of course."

Robert gave her a reassuring smile. "Everything will be alright." His tone was soothing and soft. "Just do what I recommended. Don't be afraid and be honest." He winked at her. "You will see that you will be respected and admired by Robin for your honesty and bravery."

She winked at him, too. "You will always be a cheeky mischief-maker, Lord Leicester?"

He laughed jovially. "Always, my dear lionet."

In the great hall, the dancing began. Robin extended his hand to Melisende and led her into the first set of steps, and then passed her to the Earl of Leicester, soon again meeting with his wife on the dance floor. He whirled Melisende about the dance floor, his head spinning, his blue eyes sparkling in his grinning face. His wife laughed, and Robin shivered at the eerie sound it produced as it echoed over him. Surrounded by his friends and being so close to the beautiful, desirable lady he had married, Robin left his emotional guard down and laughed, as if he had forgotten all his pain and troubles.

Robin danced very well, and took special pleasure in the intricate figures. Sometimes a hand would clasp his meaningfully, but he was too involved in the dance to notice. In one of the dances, Robin partnered Lady Isabella of Jerusalem, his one-time lover in the garden of the Castle of Limassol when he had a sensational duel with Henry de Champagne. She looked beautiful and seductive, as always, resplendent in a gown of red silk embroidered with little golden lioncels.

"I have heard you have reached a truce with my Henry," Isabella of Jerusalem said to Robin as they met, parted and turned. "I have to confess that I was astonished."

Robin bowed to her. "Your husband and I have many important things to do together. We don't need scandals, public taunting and bickering."

Isabella smiled cunningly. "It is important for peace in the Holy Land."

"Yes, exactly," he confirmed, jerking away from her a fraction.

"Huntington," Isabella called him, making him pause and half turn to her. She smiled demurely. "Have you ever thought to repeat what we had in Limassol? Henry doesn't care for me. He was simply angry that it was you who became my lover, and he was also drunk that evening."

Robin cleared his throat, feeling like a tongue-tied squire. "Sorry, but this will never happen again."

Her smile faded. "Why?"

"I am a married man, Lady Isabella," Robin said flatly, his voice cold. "Forgive me. I will leave you."

In one of the dances, Robin met Lady Catherine de Mathefelon, also his former lover. He hoped that Melisende would dismiss the lady from her service, for the fact that he had once slept with one of his wife's ladies-in-waiting was disturbing. Catherine looked seductive and desirable in her indecently low cut gown with off-the-shoulder sleeves, which was made out of silver-and-blue silk.

"Lord Huntington, you are such a lucky man that you married Lady Melisende," Lady Catherine de Mathefelon remarked as they began to perform a new path of steps.

"I know," Robin said briefly.

"Huntington, if you need a lover, you can always come to me."

"I am not intending to betray my marriage vows." Robin stifled a groan, irritated with her advances.

"Oh." She looked disappointed.

"It is true, Lady Catherine."

"I can understand! Lady Melisende is too beautiful for a mere mortal!" Catherine exclaimed as she swayed giddily on her toes in a dance. "But I will miss you, Sir Robin."

A thin, ironic smile touched Robin's mouth. "You will see that my reformation from an unmarried cheeky rogue to a faithful cheeky husband will be progressing nicely."

"Lady Melisende possesses a treasure," Catherine said, tugging hard at Robin's sleeve in a dance. "I would have done everything to be in Lady Melisende's shoes, Huntington."

Robin rolled his eyes; then his expression changed into seriousness. "Lady Catherine, believe me that you wouldn't envy my wife if you knew me as much as she would eventually learn about me."

Catherine gave him a startled glance, but then she gave him a tender smile, her eyes full of hunger for him. Then she swung her gaze to another man as another turn briefly separated them, and Robin was relieved that he didn't have to tolerate her advances. He was glad that they were separated in a dance.

Robin danced, but his eyes were searching for his wife. His heart thundered in his chest as his eyes met Melisende's eyes, for the sight of the beautiful temptress – the Goddess of beauty and wit – make him wish to hold her in his arms and taste the sweetness of her luscious lips.

§§§

The smell of wine, the sounds of music, and the hubbub of voices blended with scents of the violets and lilies spread throughout the great hall. Robin and Melisende met each other in a next dance. Turning sideways of him, careful not to break eye contact, she swished her heavy brocade skirts about to the rhythm of the music, teasing him with flashes of her slim thighs. As sadder notes of chanson filled the air, she whirled toward him, her head bowed in a momentary submissive gesture. With the last tremendous beat of the music, she straightened her back, springing forward, one arm reached over her head, the other extended toward him as he took it in his.

Robin's eyes locked with Melisende's, and he flashed a smile. "You dance divinely, Melisende."

"You danced with Lady Isabella and Lady Catherine," Melisende said dryly, ignoring his compliment.

He grinned boyishly. "Can I hope that you are jealous?"

She frowned, then licked her lips teasingly, just for effect. "Oh, Huntington, and you think I care?"

"Your frown proves your jealousy," he returned.

She folded her arms over her too-ample breasts that were thankfully shielded from his gaze by that shroud of her splendid wedding gown. "Oh, well, I just had something in my eye!"

"Yeah, then so be it." Robin eyed Melisende, then released a deep sigh. He wanted his wife as much as he had wanted only one woman – Marian. He even wanted her more than he had wanted Marian in the woods. He wanted her for herself and not as simply one more distraction from his painful memories.

"Hmm," she said. "That's true."

"I will never betray my marriage vows with Lady Isabella of Jerusalem or Lady Catherine de Mathefelon or with anyone else," he said meaningfully. "Isabella and Catherine… are lovely, polite, elegant, and noble, but emotionally they are as empty as china dolls, or so it seems."

Melisende chuckled. "I cannot believe that you are going to be faithful."

He grinned at her, his blue eyes blazing. "I have no lovers," he admitted.

The evening was full for Robin, and it was a matter of dashing from pleasure to pleasure. Robin was the savior of England and the people's hero, but he also was a courier. He was a normal young man, and on such a magnificent feast he looked for his pleasures in dancing and gambling. He danced with Melisende, her ladies-in-waiting, and other women. He danced with Isabella of Jerusalem and her ladies. They even had dancing on the grass in the garden and a long theatrical entertainment in the open air.

If Robin didn't dance, there were endless discussions about peace negotiations with Saladin with King Richard, Robert de Beaumont, Edmund of Cranfield, Henry de Champagne, Carter Leighton of Stretton, and several other people from the King's closest entourage. In the early youth, it became the custom for Robin to have matches in card games with Robert de Beaumont, and today they again played together – the two old friends talking secrets with one another and everyone else.

Blondel continued singing the love songs, sitting near King Richard and Henry de Champagne. As the music rhythm changed, Robin escaped to the company of Will, Djaq, and Little John.

Robin smiled heartily. "Djaq and Will, I am happy to see you."

"We couldn't come to the church, but we come here. Well, you know," Djaq said apologetically.

Robin gave a nod. "I understand."

"Thank you," Djaq said pleasantly.

"Congratulations, Robin. All the best to you in your marriage," Will said with a small smile, looking at Melisende and Richard. "She is beautiful."

"Yes, she is." Robin smiled.

"You like her?" Djaq asked, curious.

"I am attracted to her." Robin meant it, because was genuinely fond of his young wife.

"He means it," Little John said.

"Yes, I do. Do you have no words of wisdom for me today?" Robin asked.

Djaq gave him a sweet smile. "Surely, you have already endured a surfeit of those!"

Robin chuckled. "I certainly know all the things I have to do to ensure loyalty to Richard of the barons in Bordeaux. And I definitely know what I am not supposed to do as the husband of the King's cousin."

Next moment, Much appeared behind them. He put a hand on Robin's shoulder. "Robin, Lady Melisende is very beautiful! She will be a dutiful wife to you, and you must be a good husband to her! Don't betray her with… other women who are drawn to you like flies to honey. Never ever behave like you did in Limassol. You are married to King Richard's cousin. You cannot disgrace the King and yourself."

"I am well aware of my responsibility before the King and the Plantagenet family. Believe me that causing disappointment to my King is the last thing on my mind," Robin responded sincerely.

"Just be at peace, Robin," John said.

Will looked solemn. "I wish you to forget betrayals and pain. Don't dwell on them; it is not worth it."

Robin's eyes turned cold and piercing. "I gave myself a word that I would forget Marian. Let her be happy with Gisborne if she wants this," he murmured in a steel tone.

"Trust God, Robin. God never leads you to a path that is not meant for you," Djaq mused. "Your past was often not very bright, but I hope that you would find peace. And my own wisdom, for what it is worth, is to wish you to let everything unfold in its own time."

Robin smiled gratefully. "You have always been full of wisdom, Djaq."

"Oh, yes, she is a fount of wisdom," Will agreed. "For this and many other things I do love her."

Carter's voice came as though through a mist, for nobody noticed the young blonde man approaching them from the back. "Robin, I wish that your life is long and happy and rich of events. Let this union be just the beginning of your happiness." He smiled with a crooked smile. His deep blue eyes danced.

Robin looked at all his friends, holding his breath and flattered by their obvious sincerity. His face lit up with a smile full of warmth and boyish charm. "Thank you, my friends. Thank you for everything."

"We are Robin Hood!" Little John cried out.

"What?" Carter was baffled.

"Just say this, Carter," Much prompted.

"We are Robin Hood!" everyone else echoed, except Robin.

"We are Robin Hood," Robin said after a short pause. A sudden surge of happiness filled his heart; he loved all of his friends dearly and no longer felt himself alone.

The luxurious wedding feast was over. The darkness fell upon Acre, but the Citadel of Acre was bright with a profusion of lights of every description, from candles to torches. The sky was full of stars, and a slight wind blew the torches that flickered brightly in the warm air outside the castle. A low, distant rumbling presaged a storm in the sea, and the air was still and calm but warm and moist; the birds seemed to have stopped singing and quickly returned to their nests. The ominous clouds were rolling up at a frightening speed, driven by the north wind from the sea.

Inside her chambers, Melisende waited for Robin to come on the wedding night. The room smelled of jasmine and roses. The bedchamber was decorated in an opulent style, and all was blue and white, except a pair of red lacquer cabinets which added a warmer note to the environment. The walls were whitewashed, and only one of them hung with blue brocade. Raised up on three steps like a throne, the great mahogany bed hung with rich brocades stood in the corner of the chamber. Several brocade-covered high-back chairs and a brocade-covered sofa stood along one of the walls.

Melisende leaned on the window-ledge, fighting off the giddiness which overwhelmed her and staring out as the darkness shrouded the landscape of Acre. She felt her body quivering with mingled fear and anticipation. She was greatly attracted to Robin, and hoped that she physically attracted him. Richard told her that her marriage might have ceased of being purely political, and she wanted it to be true.

She wanted the night to be simple and beautiful, but she had a secret from Richard and everyone – she was not a virgin anymore. She had to tell Robin that there was once a secret lover in her life, who had taught her an art of physical love, and every fibre of her body still trembled even now with intoxicating sensations at the memory of those white-hot nights in Normandy with Robert de Beaumont, whom she thought she loved, in fact merely taking infatuation for love. But tonight it was a matter not only of marriage consummation, but also a matter of deep physical and spiritual attraction she felt for Robin, her love for him that was growing in her heart every day. She feared that her new husband would repent that he had married a woman who had lost her innocence with another man.

Melisende was shaken out of her morbid state when the doubled oak doors of her room were flung wide open and Robin, dressed in a long blue brocade robe, appeared at the doorway.

"Melisende," Robin called, his tone quiet and cautious.

She swung around and sank into a deep, gracious curtsey. "Robin," she murmured, her head lowered.

"Please never curtsey to me. I am your husband, not your owner."

Melisende pinned a brooch at the throat of her gown. "I have to tell you something."

The corners of his mouth twitched. "If it doesn't spoil my mood, then do that," he stated mockingly.

"I am afraid it will disappoint you. It is something very serious."

"Pray tell me what is going on in the pretty little head of yours."

"Something is happening."

"Don't fear me," Robin murmured. "Never fear to talk to me."

Breathing a weary sigh of resignation that the time to tell him the truth had come, Melisende hung her head. Her legs felt weak and she sank to the brocade-covered chair that stood before the dressing-table. "Robin, I… I…" She passed a trembling hand across her face.

"What?" Melisende shivered. His silken, gentle voice spoke from so close behind her that she seemed to feel his warm breath on her neck. She slowly raised her face and saw that Robin stood near her. Then she felt his arm go round her, holding close and drawing her to her feet.

"I… I have to make a confession," she began to speak in a voice so low and so shaking it was a mere whisper. "Robin, I am not a maid."

Robin gave her a long, intensive gaze, contemplating her lovely features in absolute stillness. He was astonished and puzzled, but also strangely relieved that she was so honest and that he wouldn't be the first man for his new wife. After Marian's betrayal, he chronically hated maids. Robin felt heart-rending sadness as his mind drifted off to Marian, for whom he was her first lover but whom she pushed away and instead married his sworn enemy. It was almost comical that the situation in Robin's marriage mirrored the situation in Marian's marriage to Guy.

Robin laughed outright. "Oh, let me guess. You think that I will be displeased?"

She gave a slight, hesitant nod. "I thought that you would reject me."

He shook his head determinedly. "Never! How did it happen, if you feel you can tell me?"

All her unvoiced agony was reflected in her eyes; her gaze was no longer veiled by a mask of coldness and regality. "I… I… thought that I loved him and that we would probably be married, but later I realized that I didn't love him and we broke our relations. I know that I did a wrong thing, but it cannot be undone, and I am sorry for that," she said remorsefully.

"Was this man your former betrothed?"

She sighed tearfully. "You know that I was betrothed twice, but Richard dissolved these arrangements. But this man… was not one of them."

"I don't judge you, for I have no right," he said softly. "But I want to know who he was."

She sighed heavily. She was ashamed, bitterly ashamed of what she was going to say, but she had to do that. "He was… your close friend… He was…"

"Who?" His eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh, Robin!" Melisende cried out, blushing furiously. As so many rich emotions overwhelmed her, her face paled with terror, and she began trembling. "I am ashamed of myself. I am so ashamed… He was… Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester."

"Did Robert seduce you?" His voice was tense.

She shook her head. "No, no. I seduced him because I thought that I loved him." She sighed deeply. "He never told me that he loved me. On the contrary, he told me that I didn't love him and that I wronged myself by taking passion for love."

Robin pursed his lips. "And yet, he took your innocence?"

"Robin, please don't hate Robert! I tempted him! I seduced him!" And it was the truth.

"I think I know how it happened." He sighed heavily. "Robert and you had love affair when he was wounded and was sent back home. You must have been together when he was in his estates in Normandy and you were at one of your estates."

She gave a nod. "Yes."

"Robert loves another woman. I know this sad story very well," Robin retorted coldly.

"I know. He told me his heartbreaking love story."

"Even more heartbreaking than my own story," Robin said automatically.

"Oh." She twisted her fingers.

The silence that followed was so absolute that their heartbeats must be heard by everyone.

He eyed her with amusement, rubbing his cheek. "Well, it is unexpected."

Her cheeks turned sheer crimson. "Do you hate me?"

"No, I don't hate you. On the contrary, I am not ashamed of you." He grinned at her. "I adore your honesty and boldness. You made me proud tonight."

"Are you kidding me?" She looked amazed.

"Melisende, I am not joking. I admire your courage and honesty."

She brightened at his words. "It is unexpected, given that I was with Robert de Beaumont."

With a feathery touch, he traced the lines of her face, admiring the excellence of its form, delighting in the softness of her alabaster skin beneath his fingertips. "We are grown-up people. Let what happened in the past be left in the past. Let us leave some things unsaid," he murmured.

She gave him a tremulous smile, her eyes large and innocent. "Thank you."

"Welcome." He smiled, but then a shadow crossed his face. "Just one thing."

"What?" Her hand quivered in his.

"Never betray me with Robert," Robin warned, narrowing his eyes at her; his face hardened. His eyes were as hard as granite. "It doesn't matter what happened in the past. But don't forget that Robert is my best friend… among nobles. I love him very much, and I don't want… to lose his friendship."

"Forgive me, Robin," Melisende whispered hoarsely. "I will never betray you, I swear."

"I believe you," he said. "Does someone else know?"

Melisende shook her head, her violet eyes growing stormy. "I don't know for sure, but Leicester and I were very careful. It seems that no one knew about us."

"And Richard doesn't know, does he?"

"No, Robin, he doesn't."

"And he doesn't need to know. We will never tell him," he said comfortingly. "I don't want Richard to be angry with you and Robert." A heavy sigh escaped his lips. "You are my wife, Robert is my best friend, and I want to keep everyone in their places and good graces."

Melisende swallowed hard. "Richard will kill me if he learns the truth."

"He won't kill you, but he will be very angry," he objected as calmly as he could.

She shook her head. "Oh, Robin..."

Robin wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her body tremble dangerously. Melisende paled, the blood rushed to her head and drained away again. She was almost fainting with horror.

"Melisende, you are trembling all over. Calm down, please." His voice was a caressing murmur. "What is done is done. You did nothing wrong, for you thought that you loved Robert. Believe me that I don't care whether you are a virgin or not."

She stared at him incredulously. "Is that really true?"

"If you know me better, you will learn that I hate lying. I am grateful that you told me the truth."

"I will speak the truth, then, always to you."

"Don't be afraid of me. It is our wedding night," Robin soothed softly. "Are you ready to follow me? Night urges us on, and we go forward." He laughed at the momentary hesitation she manifested.

Melisende wanted to say something, but Robin stopped her mouth with such a burning kiss that she almost fainted in his arms. He took her hand and led her gently to the sofa with cushions. Wordlessly she nodded her assent, incapable of withstanding his charm on this enchanted night. He sat there and took her on his knees like a child, and she didn't resist him.

Robin took away the crown of flowers from her head. Then he pulled the pins from her hair, letting it tumble in wild profusion down her back and across her shoulders. Candlelight dazzled her eyes and turned her red-gold tresses to shining copper.

"You are exquisite," Robin murmured in a silken tone. "If Eve was half the beauty you are, it is no wonder Adam couldn't resist her and was doomed!"

Melisende wanted to laugh, and as she caught his eye, she was sure Robin might as well. "Do you feel doomed, too, Robin?" she whispered, drowning in the fierce blue gaze that held hers.

"Yes, I do," he admitted in a deep voice; he wanted her more with every breath he drew.

Robin unfastened the front of her gown, murmuring to her all the while in Norman-French, charming, tender endearments into her ear. Then he bent his head down and began covering with kisses first her neck and shoulders. With trembling fingers, she untied the belt of his robe and touched the warm skin of his chest with her fingertips. She brought her elegant hand up to touch his slim shoulders as he stroked her, his skilled fingers evoking a heightened awareness of every movement he made.

Melisende intercepted the lustful, heated pale blue gaze of her handsome husband, a look that foretold of more great pleasures to come. She didn't care that he had calloused figures from constant archery practice, and she enjoyed the scratch of his stubble beard against her skin. She just wanted him with her entire being, and the pleasing reality was that he also desperately wanted her.

"We are doomed," Melisende agreed.

Robin looked at her with an awfully lustful appeal in his glowing eyes. "We are more than doomed," he murmured with a curious sense of pride and satisfaction.

In a frenzy of hot, wild kisses, they managed to throw off their clothes until they stood nude, their skin surprisingly pale, as if the blazing sun of the Holy Land hadn't touched them. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. She was on her back, soft cushions beneath her. He kissed her in her lips, and then his lips travelled to her alabaster throat and then to her full breasts, his arms caressing her body. She arched and writhed in pleasure, which his caresses and kisses were giving her.

Melisende looked at the ugly scar at his left side. She didn't cringe at the sight of the wicked scar that cleaved his flesh, and then she looked into his eyes. She instinctively put a hand on his left side, but he brushed her hand away. Melisende shook her head disapprovingly, then placed it there again, and this time he allowed her to examine his left side as she traced his muscles and the scar with her fingers.

"Oh, my Lord," she whispered. "Who did this to you, Robin?"

Robin shivered, for any memory of the Saracen attack made him feel uncomfortable. Before he could look away, his gaze locked with hers. "I was badly wounded, but I saved King Richard." He swallowed hard. "I went to England after… that attack… which was not the Saracen raid in reality." He took her hand away and covered his scar with his palm.

She sucked in a breath as her mind drifted off to her conversation with Robert de Beaumont. She understood that it was the scar from Guy of Gisborne's blade.

She uttered a heavy sigh. "This scar doesn't make you less handsome, Robin." She smiled warmly at him. "Wear your scars proudly, for you took this wound to save our King."

His gaze flicked over her, as if determining her sincerity, before he released a heavy sigh. "It doesn't matter for what it was taken. This scar reminds me of my failures and imperfections."

"You are a fool, Robin of Locksley." Melisende laughed at him. "If it doesn't matter to you, it matters to me." She gave him an enticing smile. "This scar makes you even more desirable."

Robin gazed at her in amazement. "Are you entertaining yourself at my expense?"

She laughed at him. "Fool, but such a handsome fool." Her heart lurched in her chest. "I would want you even with three hundred more scars."

Taking an initiative, Melisende wrapped her arms around his back and then kissed him in his lips, and he kissed her back, reveling in the sweetly seductive stroke of his mouth across hers. He kissed her with hunger and passion, sealing his mouth to hers, drinking in her hot breaths, enjoying the fine tremor of her body against his. It was beautiful and humbling, passionate and possessive all at once. It was like ﬂoating at sea, their bodies carried on rolling waves.

Somehow, they managed to get to the bed. Robin loomed above his wife, and then he filled her completely, unable to deny himself a moment longer. For an instant, he fantasized that Melisende was Marian, not the King's cousin, and this prompted him to take her with wild hunger and vehement passion. The pictures of Marian in Gisborne holding each other in a tight embrace flickered in his mind, and every such an image made him seek consolation in the gorgeous body of his wife, and somehow the pain of Marian's betrayal lessened.

Before Melisende fell asleep in Robin's arms, she realized how happy she was. Even knowing full well that Robin was a ladies man and had quite many love affairs, she still didn't expect him to be so passionate with her after the revelation about her relationship with the Earl of Leicester. She also was delighted that Robin was such an experienced lover, who could have pleased even the most wanton courtesan in the bed; he was a curious and gentle, passionate and considerate lover, whose passion gave a lingering pleasure before sudden explosion that could have devastated to the core and then quickly breathed in a new life in. She laughed at herself that she came to appreciate things about Robin that she had never thought possible after the scandal in the garden at the Castle of Limassol.

Robin silently watched Melisende, smiling lightly. Looking at his beautiful wife in his arms, a mass of her red-gold hair streaming down her shoulders to her hips, he somehow felt free of all pain and fears; for the first time in many months, he was able to breathe with full lungs. In spite of gathering storm, he had a strange feeling of freedom welling up inside him. His new wife had a benevolent affect on his spirits, at last he was at relative peace, but he welcomed that freedom, which he was vaguely aware of having since he had left Nottingham so many months ago.

§§§

Sheriff Vaisey and his party rode through the countryside of England to the south. In Portsmouth, they met Prince John's mysterious assassin Archer, who proved his identity by hastily showing the Prince's letter, with the Plantagenet royal seal, into the Sheriff's face.

They boarded the ship in Portsmouth and crossed the English Channel. From Calais, they undertook a long journey of several weeks to the Mediterranean Sea. They didn't pass Normandy, Aquitaine, and other territories of the Angevin Empire: instead, they traveled through France, Languedoc, Auvergne, and then Provence. They stayed at various local inns and in the morning followed cross-country roads.

Apart from having Archer in Vaisey's party, there also were nine French highly-skilled mercenaries whom Vaisey had hired in France to feel safer and guard the captives, because he didn't completely trust Gisborne and trusted Archer even less. He didn't plan to take them on the mission of killing King Richard, lowering their roles to be only Marian and Isabella's guards.

Guy of Gisborne always stayed near Vaisey, frequently casting a sidelong, as though casual, glances at the Sheriff's two hostages – Marian and Isabella; the ladies were treated poorly, were always shackled and in a grim mood. Guy came to the conclusion that his only chance to get them out of the mess was to kill King Richard, Robin Hood, and, thus, earn the great favor of King John. Then he would have not only Locksley back, but would also be rewarded with the Earldom of Huntington.

They reached Provence in five weeks after they had left Nottingham. There, in the south of the mainland and near the sea, the cold weather was left behind and the spring tide, strong and full, carried bright sunshine, warm wind, smell of sun-warmed earth, birdsong and green trees, starry nights, and other elements of the countryside beauty in the warm time. Sometimes, the heat was excessive, the sun boiled the travelers, and the horses were bathed in sweat, the horsemen covered with dust.

Somewhere near Marseilles, one of Vaisey's men left the party, and hurried to investigate the place. They decided to spend that night at the inn in one of the small villages near Marseilles. Guy removed Marian from the carriage, shackled and gagged. He always tried to watch his wife himself, but under Vaisey's scrupulous gaze as the Sheriff clearly didn't trust Guy.

"Sea air, Gisborne. Sea air. Nice." Vaisey inhaled deeply, a small smile on his face.

"My lord, I have to go," Guy muttered, holding Marian to himself.

The Sheriff looked at Marian, narrowing his eyes at her. "Oh, well, relax, my little missy. Give Gizzy a little kiss. Right now. He is your husband. You can do this."

Marian tried to look cheerful but failed miserably. She turned her head away in exasperation, looking at Guy, her eyes pleading for help. Guy scowled at the Sheriff, and then at Marian. Simultaneously, screaming and struggling Isabella was taken by two Sheriff's men from the carriage; Archer followed her. Unlike Marian, Isabella wasn't gagged, screaming and struggling with her captors.

"The assassin is again with Isabella," Guy spat.

"Gizzy, our assassin fancies your sister," Vaisey smirked, looking at Archer. "Archer, Archy, Archy, do you like this little leper? Oh, you do, I know." He grinned. "She is a pretty little thing! Very pretty!"

Archer ignored the Sheriff, looking at Isabella with sympathy. Marian also gave Isabella a sympathetic glance; she somehow felt herself closer to Guy's sister in their shared sufferings.

"Let go of me this instant! Take your dirty hands away!" Isabella screamed.

"Lady Isabella, if you don't stop your hysteria, you will not have a dinner tonight," Vaisey warned with seriousness. "I used to like your fiery temper at first, but now I am fed up."

"How dare you… How dare you… You have no right to treat me like a peasant and a criminal! I am not your prisoner! I did nothing wrong!" Isabella persisted. "I did nothing wrong!"

Archer looked disdainfully at the Sheriff, then at Guy. "Lady Isabella deserves a better treatment."

"I know how to treat my prisoners," Vaisey hissed.

"Don't interfere," Guy addressed to Archer.

"I don't like when ladies are abused," Archer's steady voice resonated.

"Gisborne's lepers defied me! I will treat them as I wish until Guy changes and we kill the King," Vaisey said a cold voice. "But, of course, my treatment of them will change one day."

Guy eyed Archer. Archer looked very young, several years younger than Robin Hood according to Guy's rough estimate. He was dressed in a white shirt, a brown leather jerkin, dark canvas flat pants, and boots weathered from long use. Prince John's assassin might have passed for an ordinary man if it hadn't been for the weapons Archer carried with himself. There were a full quiver of arrows and a recurved Saracen bow on Archer's back; Guy noticed that all the arrows were red feathered, not white feathered like Robin's. A long curved Saracen sword was sheathed in a silver scabbard hanging from Archer's belt; another short curved sword, freshly polished and gleaming, protruded from his wide belt. Guy wondered whether the man was indeed such a great fighter as they believed him to be.

Archer was a tall brunette with the eyes of pale blue color. His mouth was well-curved and full, his skin was flawless and fair. He had broad shoulders and strong body, but he wasn't very masculine; his figure wasn't as lithe as Robin's, but not as masculine as Guy's. He was a handsome cheeky rogue, flashing devil-may-care, charming smiles and grinning mischievously, his eyes twinkling, his face an epitome of arrogance and naughtiness. He could have been a dashing gentleman if he hadn't behaved so insolently and so brazenly. There was little maturity in his appearance, but at times his cheeky and roguish personality gave way to instinct gentleness and nobility. There was some restraint in his eyes and demeanor, and he apparently was a sly and crafty man.

Guy left Marian and came to Archer; he gave Archer a murderous glare. "Master Archer, mind your business. Don't meddle into the deals you don't understand."

"She is a lady and your sister," Archer parried.

"I know what to do without you," Guy lashed out.

Archer grinned. "Certainly, you know. You are Sir Guy of Gisborne. You know everything." His grin turned impudent. "Ah, I am sorry! I forgot that there is no Gisborne, if I am not mistaken."

"You are well aware, too well, of many things that are out of your business," Guy retorted back, feeling a murderous anger welling up inside him.

Archer laughed haughtily. "I am more aware of your origins than you think."

Guy wanted to say something, but everyone's attention drifted to Isabella. Shrieking like a fury, Isabella hurled herself upon one of the guards, trying to get either to the Sheriff or to Guy, with the ultimate intention of slapping them or scratching out one's eyes. Her attack abashed the guard and everyone else, even the Sheriff, so roundly that Vaisey was unable to throw an insult and Guy had no time to stop her. The guards succeeded in overpowering her at last, pinning her to the ground with both hands clamped fast behind her back. Helpless but by no means resigned, she spat up into the face of her captor like an angry cat.

The guards made Isabella stand up. Isabella stared at Guy, her eyes blazed at him in a frenzied paroxysm of rage. "Guy of Gisborne, you are not a man of honor if you allow these men to treat your wife and a sister so despicably. At least tell them that it is not the way to treat ladies," she hissed. "These men, the mercenaries the Sheriff hired in France, are filthy clodhoppers!"

"You will be fine, Isabella," Guy said soothingly.

"You have an odd way of thinking what is right and what is wrong," Isabella shot back.

The Sheriff's men started dragging Isabella inside the building, and, without saying a word, Archer trailed behind them. Guy suspected that Archer would guard Isabella during the night, not for the first time since they had left England. Guy didn't like sudden interest of Prince John's assassin in Isabella.

Guy lifted Marian in his arms and carried her inside the inn. He opened the door with his leg and entered inside the small room. He placed Marian to the narrow bed, on which there were a straw mattress and a blanket. He removed the gag from her mouth and, giving her a small sad smile, swung around, going to the table to pour a glass of water for her to give her some comfort.

Marian sat on the bed, which, she discovered, was very hard. "You will not unshackle me?"

"I beg my pardon, but I cannot do that."

She scoffed. "Of course."

Guy crouched to her and brought a goblet to her dry lips. "Drink this."

She drank gratefully all the water. As he took the goblet away and slammed it on the floor, she glanced at him, her brain working hard how to help herself in her predicament. Each of them was silent, locked in their own thoughts and doing their best to hide their uneasiness.

"Guy, do you really want to kill the King?" Marian asked after a long silence.

"I have to," Guy replied, and his voice was strangely hoarse.

"But you don't want this."

"There is nothing I can do. Richard and Hood will be dead soon."

She jerked her head angrily. "Don't do this."

"Why should I not?"

"Richard is the King." She dropped the point of killing Robin not to have an argument with him.

Guy approached the bed and settled there, near Marian, looking into her eyes. "Richard is the King of England, but he is not God. But some people say that a King is subject to no earthly authority, deriving a right to rule directly from the will of God. They say that a King is God incarnate and can never be wrong. A King is subject to God and the Church, and irreproachable in all other ways." He laughed, rolling his head back and forth. "Any attempt to kill or depose the King constitutes a sacrilegious act and contradicts the will of God. Thus, they reckon that regicide is a grave crime."

"There is much sense in that."

"What?" He growled. "Kings invented this fairytale for themselves to make life more comfortable. If you are in opposition to the divine rights of the royals, you may be considered a traitor." He smirked. "So, Marian, do you think that Kings are God incarnates and possess rights to rule? So Kings might not be criticized, abused, deposed, and killed?"

"I don't think that Kings have divine power," Marian replied. "But an assassination of a King is different from a murder of any other man because a King is higher than his subjects."

Guy stared at her with a real surprise that gave way almost at once to a mocking smile. "It is the same as an acknowledgment of the King's divine rights to rule."

Ignoring the irony in his last words, Marian mastered her anger sufficiently to say coldly, "I have never thought that Kings are God incarnates and saints. I certainly don't support the idea that Kings have divine power." She paused for an instant. "But I believe that it is not a legal and moral right of any subject to take the life of his King because a King is born in a royal family and it is his birthright to rule over his kingdom. Besides, a subject is not the one who gives power to a King."

He laughed. "If you think that it is the King's birthright to rule, then your opinion is a surrogate of a broader conviction that Kings become Kings because God has chosen them and has given them power."

"You are wrong," she insisted in her most colorless tone.

"No, I am not."

"Fine. Let's leave it where you want it." She let out a sigh of frustration. "And you think that your theory gives you the right to murder the rightful King of England?"

Guy sniffed. "I didn't say that." He leapt to his feet and walked to the table, where a full decanter of wine stood. He poured a full goblet of spiced wine for himself and came to the chair near the window.

She sighed. "At least you don't think that regicide is a right thing to do."

"I don't justify myself but I see nothing wrong in that."

"So killing the King is not a wrong thing?" she challenged.

"Many Kings don't deserve to be Kings," he said, then drained a goblet of wine and threw it away. "I hate that Kings think of themselves as God incarnates, as if they are able to do everything." His tone grew colder. "If they wish, they may destroy lives of everyone who dares displease them. They may take a maiden and ruin her life to pacify lusts of flesh. They may abandon their own people and fight wars in the Holy Land. They may empty the nation's treasury and then impose unbearable taxes and levies. They may murder in cold blood thousands of people by beating to death, beheading, burning alive, or killing unarmed prisoners in the desert. They even have a right to rape, and they commit sadistic murders for pleasure." He gave a brittle laugh. "And they still consider themselves benevolent and rightful lords of the realm."

"Are you talking about King Richard?"

"It is about every King, including King Henry and his son Richard."

She gave her head a slight shake. "But it is about King Richard in particular?"

"Naturally."

"Richard may be not an ideal King, but he is the rightful King of England."

Guy stood up and poured another goblet of wine, then returned to his seat. "At least Prince John is in England, not in the Holy Land."

Marian laughed. "Do you really think that John would be a better King than Richard?"

"Prince John may be better or worse than Richard; I am sorry, but I don't care about that," he said flatly, sipping wine. "It is a matter of power. If John becomes the King through an assassination of the King or Richard's natural death, Vaisey will have absolute power. He will give me power and wealth." He choked on his muffled laugh. "Maybe I will become a royal favorite like Robin Hood."

"Prince John is a pretender and usurper of the throne. He has no right to plot King Richard's death. It is high treason. It is also a mortal sin to wish the death of your blood brother."

"I know, Marian."

"Then why do you criticize King Richard and are so lenient towards Prince John?"

Guy stared at her seriously, his hands clasped on his lap. "_I have no love for both King Richard and Prince John. I have always resented King Henry for what he did to my mother and to the Gisbornes; he could have interfered and defended our legal rights for the Gisborne lands he himself had granted to my father, one of his most loyal knights. My father's loyalty to Henry was worth nothing in the end_."

"Your disrespect of royal authority due to personal reasons is a personal thing. Personal reasons must be neglected when the fate of the country is decided, including the King's fate," Marian criticized.

"I am sorry, but don't care for any King or country. I have seen what Kings are able and willing to do to the people, and I have no respect for any King." His head cocked, his eyes met hers, his gaze sharp. "_I am not a fool or an oaf, as the Sheriff calls me. I know that Prince John and Vaisey's plots are wrong. I know that John will probably be a worse King than Richard. I understand everything_."

She laughed, gladdened by his words. "Then turn against the Sheriff."

"I cannot, especially after your failed attempt to kill Vaisey."

Her laughter died in her mouth, strangled in her throat. "Explain."

"If I fail to kill King Richard, Vaisey will kill you and Isabella. Don't you understand, Marian?"

"If you kill Vaisey, nobody will kill me and your sister!"

"Even if I kill the Sheriff, there is no way back for me," he said curtly.

Her gaze evolved into a glare. "What?"

"Not after everything I did," Guy explained. "I tried to kill King Richard in the Holy Land. I spent many years with Vaisey because he promised to help me restore my lands and everything Hood had stolen from my family. I tolerated humiliation and insults from Vaisey only because I envisioned myself a powerful and important man." He shut his eyes, his feelings well concealed behind the cold façade of his face. "It was a long way. I cannot say I like it. This way was wrong. But there is no way back."

"There is always a way back," she contradicted.

His eyes flung open. "No." A laugh followed. "My way back is death. Only death."

"You are wrong."

"Marian, King Richard will execute me for my crimes; but Prince John will give me power."

She eyed him accusingly. "So, you prefer to do wrong things to gain power."

Guy rolled his eyes in annoyance. "_No, no. I am just trapped_."

Marian dug her nails into her palms in her helplessness and rage. At last she realized that Guy had been not only disloyal to King Richard, but also disrespected the concept of the King's divine power and authority. It was caused by the unfortunate affair of Guy's mother with King Henry; King Henry's failure to preserve Guy's rights for the Gisborne lands; his personal contempt for the holy wars; and his rational assessment of Richard's policy in England.

"Your lust for power trapped you. But if you do nothing and turn a blind eye to Vaisey's treacherous plots, you automatically become a traitor."

"I am already a traitor to King Richard."

Blinking dizzily, Marian dragged in excruciating breath. "Look at the matter from another angle." She paused to give him time to digest her words. "Vaisey may not give you power."

"He will," Guy snapped.

"And what if not?" She pressed on.

He bent with a broad smile on his lips. "Vaisey will keep his word he gave me."

"Don't be stubborn, Guy. Assume, for an instant, that Vaisey can deceive you. What then?"

The dark blue flame flared up in his eyes. "Then I will kill him," he hissed.

Marian rejoiced as her tactic seemed to be working. She met his eyes as if their earlier conversation had never happened. "What if the Sheriff kills you before you want to kill him?"

Guy sprang to his feet with a sudden spurt of anger. "What is it? A new game?" He glared at her.

"I am just thinking. Surprised?" She didn't blink.

He shook his head. "No, I am not. I would be hardly ever surprised with you. I know that you are capable of doing many things."

Marian smiled imperturbably. "Just tell me one thing. But please think before you answer. Will you be able to kill King Richard by your own hand?"

Guy's glare turned wintry. A deathlike silence stretched between them. The steel blue eyes locked with the sapphire blue orbs; the duel of blue flames unleashed.

Guy sprang up and began pacing the room, as if he had suddenly been possessed by the devil. He was walking slowly, his head sunk on his chest, pondering at once. In a minute or so, he stopped and came to the chair he had occupied before; then he pushed himself back against the cushions of the chair.

"I don't know," he uttered.

"Think."

Pinned by her insistence, Guy threw her a suspicious look, only to see her coldness amid the flames from the blazing blue eyes. "Oddly enough, I am a kind of relieved that I didn't kill King Richard in Acre last time. I don't know why I feel so."

Marian would have crossed herself if she hadn't been shackled. "You don't want to kill the King."

"Why not?"

"You simply prefer to do nothing. You fear to take an action against Vaisey, even if you know that the Sheriff's actions are odious," she asserted.

"Marian!" he protested.

Marian came to him and stood on her tiptoes. She kissed him soundly. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. She clung tightly to him, desperate to memorize the feel of his body, the taste of his lips. He kissed her softly, softly, with the kisses of warmth, and she enjoyed the taste of his lips which was all pleasure and danger at the same time. Finally, Guy pulled away and stared at her, his eyes turning deep blue as desire had overcome every fibre of his body.

He reached out for her cheek with his hand. "I love you," he murmured softly. "I want you to love me."

"I… feel the same… when I see the other side of you, Guy, when you are not evil."

Marian smiled at him softly, her hand reaching automatically to brush back the errant lock of black hair that fell across his forehead. She took in Guy's handsome features, feeling proud that her husband was such a handsome man. Guy's dark, lethal handsomeness had always attracted her, his coldness luring her to melt it down with the warmth of her breath and heart. It was often so that she was lost in Guy as she looked into his steel blue eyes, drowning in sensation of her proximity to some dark mystery and bliss, and she found that she never wanted it to end.

Suddenly, she shuddered as she had a lightning vision of the eyes of another color, of a lighter blue hue – the pale blue eyes, of almost translucent azure color, the color of the blue cloudless sky in the warm weather. The vision of those eyes was strangely clear, and she instantly knew that she pictured Robin's eyes, not Guy's. Those eyes grinned at her, mischievously and merrily; then they turned full of innate tenderness and deep love for her; and then they changed into the frosty orbs of the cruel man who blamed her for hurting him and betraying his love for her.

A sudden vision of Robin's grinning, proud, handsome face emerged in her mind, instantly fading away. The tenderness of Guy's embrace reminded her of the minutes when Robin was tender and overprotective towards her during their clandestine rendezvous in Sherwood. She recalled the long and lonely nights when she waited for Robin to return from the Holy Land. Robin seemed to be distant, but he still was with her. Robin's image was tucked away in her memory as whiteness with little of the flesh, a scentless flower, a fleeting image in the water, but she still remembered him.

Gazing into Guy's confused eyes, she felt guilty that she had still remembered Robin, but it seemed that she could do nothing with herself. She would have had agreed to have her moment of facing agony and being torn between Robin and Guy if she had been promised that it would have been comparatively brief and by now it would have been all over. She would be dead, taking with her the sweet and wonderful memory of her only one time with Robin and her many nights with Guy. She would have died with their warm kisses on her lips, in the full, dazzling glory of love's dawn, but she wouldn't have tolerated those emotional torments of having feelings for the two such different men.

Marian stiffened in his arms, and Guy cast a questioning look at her. She felt her chin tremble dangerously, and she clamped her jaw tightly shut, blinking hard. The image of Robin's pale blue chilly eyes didn't disappear before her eyes. She was staring at Guy, but for an instant she could see only Robin, and then she blinked and Robin's image suddenly extinguished.

Strange images of Robin and herself, some of them from the past, and the images of Guy and herself, the scenes from the past and the present, passed through her mind, as if in a grotesque dream, and yet it seemed to her that she was not asleep. There were vague, cloudy forms and sometimes strange, unnatural creatures leaned over her and turned into only two faces – the faces of Robin of Locksley and Guy of Gisborne. Since they had left Nottingham, she remembered Robin more often. She wondered whether it was the effect of their journey to the Holy Land.

"Forgive me," Marian said in a low voice. "I am so sorry."

"For what, Marian?"

"For everything," she whispered.

"I don't understand you, Marian."

A silence hung over them. They silently watched each other.

"Guy, you are a decent man. You are not a killer," Marian said emphatically. She was nervous, and color darkened her cheeks but she looked calm. "Turn against the Sheriff. Warn King Richard."

"Ha!" Guy thundered. "King Richard will execute me. I will be rotting in the prison."

"I don't think so. If you help the King to defeat Vaisey and the Black Knights, he may pardon you."

Her boldness shattered him with a single stroke. "You wish me to betray the man who gave me back everything! You want me to betray the only man who helped me survive in Normandy! "

"And what you will have if King Richard comes back and you do nothing? You will be defeated."

He bit his lips. He got the point. "_I cannot lose everything. Not again. I cannot allow Hood, this brat, to win_." He turned away. "_We cannot lose everything_." His voice sounded faraway.

"Guy, look at me. You should just kill Vaisey–"

"Enough, Marian."

"Everything is a choice," Marian said. "Haven't you ever regretted your choice to side with Vaisey?"

Guy made a movement of irritation but controlled it at once and sat calmly, his hands clasped on his lap. "I regret many things, many times over, especially the fact that I had to leave Roger de Tosny's service." His tone was markedly soft.

"Is your service to Vaisey among your regrets?"

Marian regretted her words as soon as the words were out. If he began to talk to her about his past, she shouldn't pressure him, showing her impatience. But in her heart she was a prey to all the demons of impatience and curiosity and concern with Guy's life.

"I do regret doing many things for Vaisey, but I am loyal to him," Guy said, half hesitantly this time. "I have to be at the Sheriff's side to re-take everything back for the second time because the man who destroyed my life many years ago is still alive."

"You again mean Robin Hood?" Marian's voice held irritation.

"_Hood's existence reminds me of everything tragic that happened to my parents and myself_," Guy said quietly. "_I cannot be happy until he completely repays his debt to me_."

Robin and Guy's conflict was like the eternal battle of the light forces and the darkness. Unfortunately, they didn't know that they were only unfortunate victims of cruel fate, while the real culprit of their misery was the man whom neither Robin nor Guy had ever suspected to have an influence over their fates; that man was King Henry II of England, who was dead for many years, though the shadow of his deeds was still equivalent to a double death sentence for both Robin and Guy.

She shook her head in bitter disappointment. "_You are talking nonsense. You don't believe in that. Revenge will not make you happy_."

Guy fought back the impulse to fly at his wife tooth and nail and make her never speak about Robin Hood again. "I know what I am talking about."

"Guy, may I ask you a very delicate question?"

"Go on."

"You once told me that your mother had an affair with the old King," she began.

"And?"

"Your mother was married off to Sir Roger at Queen Eleanor's initiative. Is there any chance that a hasty marriage was arranged to hide… something?"

"No, there was nothing to cover. My mother married my father in more than six months after the old King had set her aside. She spent several months in her family's castle, alone and forgotten. All her former suitors were no longer willing to marry her after he had discarded her, while her parents cursed her for her carnal lusts with the King and pushed her to enter a convent."

It was what Lady Ghislane of Gisborne had told Guy, though it wasn't the truth. When young Guy once asked his mother about her presumed affair with King Henry after he had accidentally overheard the quiet conversation between his parents, Ghislane lied to him and changed the timing of her scandalous liaison with the King. She told Guy that there was a break of more than six months between her marriage to Sir Roger of Gisborne and the real end of her relationship with the old King. Very few people knew that she had married Roger in less than two months after the King had discarded and cruelly humiliated her, and many years passed since she had left Normandy; Guy was unlikely to ever question her words and check the truthfulness of her tale.

"I beg my pardon for this question."

"Never mind," Guy said evenly. "Get some sleep. We will get up early and board the ship to Acre," he told her. Then he turned around and left the room, locking it with the key.

§§§

The journey from Marseilles to Cyprus was troublesome and time-consuming. It took more than two months to get to Cyprus as they had to spend two weeks on Corsica waiting for the storms to subside and then one unfortunate week in Palermo waiting for the ship they had boarded on Corsica to be repaired. Days of their voyage dawned clear and bright, offering no relief to the travelers. Everyone lay around listlessly, too tired and monotonous to talk and argue, too irritable to play checkers or cards, too exhausted to discuss the regicide attempt, except Vaisey who screamed and fumed during the whole journey, cursing the Holy Land, Robin Hood, and King Richard.

Sir Guy of Gisborne shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand and peered out into the Mediterranean Sea, feeling extremely relieved to finally step on the land of Cyprus. Guy, Vaisey, Archer, and others disembarked the ship in the harbor of Limassol and, having deposited shackled Marian and Isabella to the Sheriff's guards at the inn, headed to the tavern to meet Guy de Lusignan, the King of Cyprus, who was the spy of the Black Knights and the traitor to Richard Plantagenet.

Vaisey, Guy, and Archer stood outside the small tavern in the harbor. A dim, orange light filtered through the grimy windows. Obviously, there were many low-born people of doubtful reputation and whores seeking for clients there. Adjacent to the tavern, there were an assemblage of small open shops and a bawdy house. It was hard to imagine Guy de Lusignan coming to this place.

Guy glanced at the Sheriff dubiously. "You are quite sure that we are meeting him here?"

The Sheriff cast an angry glance at his henchman. "I know what I do. I am certain that he is here."

"You are not mistaken. I am here," the Norman-French voice behind them came. They turned around and got the sight of the man strolling towards them at a leisurely pace. The man wore long seaboots and was wrapped in a black cloak, his face covered with hood. "I hope I came on time."

"Oh, this is alright." Vaisey laughed. "Let's go inside."

Guy pushed open the low door of the tavern, and they entered the place. They were met by a nauseating reek of alcohol, fried fish and human sweat, together with a confused blether of drunken voices and loud, raucous laughter, mingled with the clinking of mugs and sounds of strange music. Everything was smoke-filled and the drunker bickering was even louder. Above it all, floated the crude air of a sea shanty.

Guy spotted prostitutes in cheap, daring gowns with outrageously painted faces roamed from a group to group in search of custom. Guy saw one of the whores clinging to the man, wrapping her arms about his neck, and then the chair teetered for a second and then crashed to the floor. Laughter filled the room as the prostitute lay upon the client and put her lips to his in a long, passionate kiss. Guy gave a disgusted grunt. The place seemed terrible even for opportunistic Archer who wrinkled his nose in disgust. Vaisey and de Lusignan only laughed.

"What is it?" Guy de Lusignan asked curiously as they settled at the table in the corner of the tavern. "What are you looking at? This is a place of very ill-repute, a haunt of rogues, pimps and prostitutes."

"Oh? That bad? But I have seen worse in Outremer and in Byzantine Empire," Archer said steadily.

"Well, it seems that you had to visit such terrible places before," de Lusignan continued. "I hate this tavern, but I couldn't meet you at the Castle of Limassol in the splendor of my small court."

Vaisey smiled. "Oh, Monsieur, I understand. No worries."

"I have a lot of news for you, mainly bad." De Lusignan slightly raised his hood and gave a long look at his three companions, Prince John's servants.

"Well, now you have gotten me curious," the Sheriff said quietly.

The King of Cyprus let out a muffled laugh. "When Lord Sheridan offered me to side with Prince John, I hesitated because I wasn't sure that the Prince would succeed in the end. Now I see that I was right." Then he folded his arms over his chest. "You chose a bad timing for the regicide attempt."

The Sheriff laughed and shook his head in mock dismay. "There is nothing that can stop us now, when we are so close to giving England a new King and a new era, golden era, with King John I of England."

Guy and Archer tensed and shared uneasy glances, but then Guy glanced away.

Archer leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs. "Prince John feared that Robert de Sablé would fail, and he ordered that he would go to Acre sooner than we planned. He said that we should go to Acre and take care of his brother before he signs the peace treaty with Saladin."

"You are talkative, Archy, very talkative," Vaisey remarked with a wry grin on his lips.

"Lord Vaisey, you have forgotten that I am Prince John's man, not your guard whom you can humiliate and mistreat without repercussions," Archer assailed, smiling widely and cynically. "Don't push yourself into unlucky position of being my enemy."

Vaisey leaned closer to Archer. "Ah, nice, Archy, very nice! Oh, I like you, my sweet Archy. You are so self-assured and so proud. But I have known prouder men who broke and learnt obedience."

Archer measured him with a cold glare. "I warned you, Lord Vaisey. You should better be my friend."

Guy was having a devil of a time suppressing a wide grin, and he dared not look at either the Sheriff or Archer. He enjoyed that Archer taunted Vaisey; he also envied him that he was free and didn't need to tolerate Vaisey's insults. But they had come there to talk about the deal.

Guy turned his gaze at de Lusignan. "What happened? Why this timing is not suitable to go to Acre?"

"_I will wager that you won't be happy to learn that King Richard is expecting to sign the peace treaty with Saladin within one week, if not earlier_," de Lusignan informed. "_It may also be done by now_."

Everyone stared at Lusignan in shock. The only sounds were the laugher of the drunken people and the conspirators' rather heavy breathing. Little by little, the silence became oppressive.

"Well, the news is disconcerting. How did the King manage to do it so quickly?" Vaisey asked worriedly.

"Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntington, foiled the last regicide attempt," de Lusignan reported. "Robin of Locksley and Henry de Champagne allied King Richard with the Hashashin, and Saladin gave his support for that alliance. Locksley unmasked Robert de Sablé's plot and retrieved the Pact of Caen."

"Damn Hood," Vaisey cursed.

De Lusignan nodded. "King Richard has the Pact of Nottingham and the Pact of Caen in his possession. The King has everything against the Black Knights and knows the names of all the traitors."

"What happened to Robert de Sablé?" The smile was wiped out of Vaisey's face.

"The Earl of Huntington killed Grand Master de Sablé in Masyaf after a long and bloody fight. De Sablé was an excellent swordsman, but Huntington proved that he is a better one," de Lusignan informed. "The rumors are that Locksley wounded Grand Master and made him stand on his knees; then he spoke an accusing and passionate speech and beheaded de Sablé as a high traitor."

Guy laughed quietly. "Well, it was quite expected that this regicide attempt would be thwarted."

"I was sure that Robin Hood would kill de Sablé." Vaisey smiled, and everyone caught the gleam of his jeweled teeth in his mouth. "Hood again showed how crafty his pretty little head is! I didn't expect that he would be so theatrical and so cruel to put the defeated man on his knees and kill him." He croaked with laugher. "There is more in Hood than I thought. I would give much to see de Sablé's death."

"He has always been a bloody hypocrite, but in fact a murderer and a thief," Guy spat.

Vaisey rubbed his cheek. "It seems the man is lusting for blood again, and he is dangerous."

De Lusignan smiled. "Locksley has always hated all traitors to his precious King Richard. I don't like him, for he is arrogant and righteous, a star in the sky, a pampered King's favorite, but I cannot deny that Robin is a noble-hearted man through and through."

"You admire him?" Archer asked with interest.

"Everyone admires the brave Earl of Huntington, Hero of Acre and Robin Hood. You can envy him and dislike him, but you cannot be indifferent to this man. I have never liked him, but I cannot deny that he is a unique man who always makes a difference," de Lusignan explained, a lazy smile hovering over his lips. "He is utterly loyal to the King; he will never betray him."

"But Hood is a pain in derrière," the Sheriff said seriously. "Ah! Well, it looks like we will have to kill our little Robin Red Breast in the Holy Land. He will die together with his beloved Richard." He smacked his lips. "They will be our chickens and we will be hunters. We will capture and kill them."

Guy de Lusignan gave Vaisey a skeptical look. "Are you sure that you want to try to kill the King now when the war is almost over? Robin of Locksley and Robert de Beaumont will give you no chance to come close to the King."

The Sheriff laughed, his spirits improving. "I am sure more than ever that we will kill King Richard this time. And Robert de Sablé's death is good! I never mind someone dead! Hood gave us a great chance to kill the King and his pretty little outlaw friends by ourselves."

"It won't be easy," de Lusignan noticed.

Archer kept silent, looking at the King of Cyprus, Vaisey, and Guy in turns. He was direct and sharp with Vaisey because he despised the Sheriff. He also thought of his long-lost family, whom he had discovered by chance as Malcolm had found him in Constantinople. He pitied Isabella for her troubles and was stunned that Guy endured so much humiliation from the despicable small man with jeweled tooth. If he had been in Guy's shoes, he would have rebelled against the Sheriff a long time ago. But he also thought of Robin of Locksley, whom he hated and despised; he envied that Robin was so adored and so admired, so close to the King, and had everything while he, Archer, was abandoned by their father and had nothing during his whole life.

Guy's eyes darted between the Sheriff's smug face and de Lusignan's calm face. Like de Lusignan, he doubted that it would be easy to kill the King now. The latest news that Robin had killed de Sablé didn't make him enthusiastic about killing Richard in Acre when Hood was always near the King and the Head of the Private Guard. Guy once failed in Acre, and it was likely that they would fail again.

"Do you have a plan, my lord? If Hood is bloodthirsty and is always with the King, we may have a serious trouble," Guy said neutrally.

"I always have a plan! Always!" Vaisey cried out, his teeth flashing in a grin.

"If you think that everything is so easy, then you don't look at the situation from another angle." Guy de Lusignan stretched his legs forward. "And I don't recommend that you kill Robin of Locksley, even if you try to kill King Richard."

The Sheriff's wry smile instantly transformed into a glare he turned towards de Lusignan. "Prince John craves to see Hood dead. Hood has become too annoying. His death is necessary."

"My lord, I support you." Guy gave a nod to the Sheriff.

De Lusignan chuckled. "Prince John won't praise you if you kill the Earl of Huntington."

Vaisey waved his hand. "Nonsense. He will be pleased."

"Let him speak," Archer shot back, staring at de Lusignan. "Why should Robin of Locksley live?" He struggled to keep his voice neutral, though his blood started boiling in hatred for Robin.

Guy de Lusignan smiled, pleased that he would be able to bring troubling news to the Sheriff, whom he already loathed, though it was the first time when he saw the man. "_King Richard arranged a political marriage for Robin of Locksley." _

Guy gripped the edge of the table tightly, his knuckles turning white. "Hood is going to marry?"

"Robin of Locksley is a married man," de Lusignan informed. "He married the King's first cousin – Lady Melisende Plantagenet. He became Count de Bordeaux by his marriage. The grand wedding took place in Acre more than two months ago. It was a purely political marriage."

"Political marriage?" Guy's mood improved at the revelation, for Robin was no longer a free man. He remembered the rumors he had heard at the royal court in London from William Marshal, the Earl of Pembroke, and his wife Isabel de Clare; he was again impressed with Marshal's shrewdness and sharp mind as the man made a right guess that Lady Melisende Would be married off to Robin of Locksley.

De Lusignan gave a low chuckle. "_It was necessary for King Richard to assure the loyalty of the lords in Aquitaine and partly in Normandy. I mean the loyalty of those nobles who looked sideways at the King and with delight at Prince John._ Richard needed this marriage to prevent potential unrest among his nobles, and he married his grand favorite off to his cousin."

"I see," Guy said, recovering from the initial shock.

Archer narrowed his eyes. "And Locksley agreed?"

"Locksley will do everything for his King," de Lusignan continued. "Many of those lords also were unhappy to be vassals to Lady Melisende and then to Eleanor of Aquitaine and then to Richard; they said that Lady Melisende was just a young woman, not a capable man, and there was another doubtful matter with the inheritance of County of Bordeaux there, but I don't know about that in details."

"The political impact of this union is rather large." The Sheriff surmised where de Lusignan was leading.

"Very large," de Lusignan retorted. "As a result of this marriage, the King's vassals from Aquitaine, especially from Bordeaux and the nearby lands, and some lands in Normandy, are currently swearing their fealty to Robin of Locksley, and they are doing this eagerly and delightedly, as far as I know. This marriage calmed down the nerves of many nobles who grew discontent with the long absence of King Richard in his lands. As you understand, the part of the Black Knights from Aquitaine and Normandy switched sides and now they again support King Richard."

The Sheriff gave a little smile, amazed. "Blah-di-blah-di-blah! This is a good strategic political move to ensure the loyalty by marrying his most trusted servant to his blood cousin."

Guy rubbed his cheek. "I have never thought that the Lionheart is so politically astute."

De Lusignan gave the Sheriff a long look. "I suspect that this is not King Richard's idea. This is Eleanor of Aquitaine's political move to prevent the unrest in the Angevin Empire and get her precious Richard a great advantage over John. I have heard that the Queen Mother also arranged beneficial political marriages for the Earl of Leicester and Andre de Chauvigny, the King's beloved and trusted supporters; these unions will be the marriages like Locksley's marriage to the King's cousin, necessary to ensure loyalty to the King and stability in his lands; they will marry upon their return from the Crusade."

Archer rolled his eyes. "The King's cousin? Locksley must be chocking with luck."

"The arrogant brat is too full of himself," the King of Cyprus acquiesced. "I am sure Locksley is now prouder and more arrogant. After all, King Richard elevated him higher than many other nobles, even the Earl of Leicester, though temporarily higher than him; Leicester will also become Count de Cholet through his future marriage." He chuckled. "Locksley is holding the Earldom of Huntington and County of Bordeaux through his marriage; he also received many estates in Aquitaine, Normandy, and Anjou."

Guy's eyes narrowed, and he drawled mockingly, "Robin Hood is the savior of the poor, and now he has such great riches and lofty titles."

Archer's eyebrow flicked upward in cynical mocking. "Oh, I wouldn't care about the lady's titles and estates if she were ugly and unattractive."

De Lusignan laughed. "Lady Melisende is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life."

"Then Locksley is a very lucky man." Archer envied Robin. "These royal favorites are extremely lucky men… so many castles and titles, while others have nothing!"

"Archy, you are envious? Don't be a bad boy!" Vaisey teased.

"It is not your deal, Lord Vaisey," Archer snapped.

De Lusignan shrugged. "Well, the Earl of Huntington and the Earl of Leicester have always had King Richard's highest favor. I am not astonished that good marriages are arranged for them."

Sheriff Vaisey called the servant girl and gave her a coin. She smiled and in a minute brought four cups of ale and some snakes for the four men who were waiting in silence.

"Prince John is not pleased with Hood's marriage, I guess." Guy took a cup of ale and made a small sip.

"Well, Prince John didn't know the news about the marriage in Acre when he dispatched you to kill the King, but I assure you that many things changed. The Prince will get the news in a month or so, I think," de Lusignan said confidently. "_Now you understand why Prince John will not be happy with Robin of Locksley's death. Huntington is married to the King's cousin, also Prince John's cousin_."

The Sheriff looked troubled, but then he masked his anxiety with a wry smile.

"And what?" Archer didn't touch his ale, for he simply had never liked it.

Guy de Lusignan broke into a loud laugh, in a sort of a mournful way. "And you don't understand, do you?" He emptied his cup of ale, then slammed it on the table. "It is very simple! If Huntington dies, particularly if he is killed by heroically saving King Richard, it may lead to political unrest in Aquitaine. Queen Eleanor's vassals will alienate from Prince John even more and the Prince doesn't need that."

The Sheriff gave a self-conscious smile. "Of course, it will not make Prince John more popular."

"Prince John loves Lady Melisende very much, and he will not want to hurt her," the King of Cyprus said. "I am sure Richard arranged this marriage for Locksley to make his standing more secure."

Vaisey responded with a loud laugh. "Oh, oh, oh! I care only about Prince John's deals, not about the heart of the poor heartbroken widow. Hood's royal leper wife will survive if we kill Hood." He laughed again. "Find me a woman who wants to be married to a dead hero and I will show you a woman who is unhappily wed. Dead men provide no comfort or love to lepers."

"The timing for the regicide attempt is not very good," de Lusignan pointed out.

"This time is excellent! It is high time to kill King Richard and Robin Hood, if it is necessary," Vaisey countered. He turned his head and gave a fierce glare to Guy. "This is your fault, Gisborne. You are an incompetent idiot. You and your boy, who ran away, are at fault! You failed Prince John and me. You know what I mean Gisborne! Queen Eleanor must have been subdued a long time ago." He meant that they had failed to find the Queen Mother's golden boy.

Guy cringed. "My lord, this is not my fault… We were looking for a needle in the heap of hay. We–"

"Shut up, Gisborne! I don't need your justifications! I need result!" Vaisey screamed. "You don't have to think – you must only carry out my commands, nothing more. You failed me again."

"My lord, I…" Guy didn't know what to say.

"Be careful, Gisborne." The Sheriff leaned towards Guy and hugged him, imitating a gesture of friendly affection. Then he said into his henchman's ear, "You know what will happen if you don't kill the King." He lowered his voice to a hissing sound of a serpent. "I will kill your lepers, both of them." He drew back, then waggled his finger at Guy as though he had been a disobedient child. "Gizzy, don't fail me in Acre. Don't make me teach you a hard lesson."

The Sheriff and Guy looked into each other's eyes for a long moment. Vaisey chuckled, his expression showing his superiority. Guy was serious, his jaw clenched, his teeth gritted.

Guy felt that the Sheriff was slowly pushing him towards the line behind when he would be no longer able to control himself and ignore Vaisey's despicable treatment. Guy craved to take a cruel revenge on Vaisey for insulting Marian and himself, but he knew better to keep silent in order to avoid negative consequences for Marian in the first place. He knew that the Sheriff had never liked Sir Edward Fitzwalter and Marian and had always suspected their true allegiances. He couldn't let Marian bring more harm upon herself if he or she betrayed Vaisey; he had to protect her.

"I understand," Guy said quietly.

"Good, my boy," the Sheriff said, turning to face de Lusignan. "So you, Monsieur, still don't recommend that we go to Acre and make the King roar like a wild lion?"

"No, I don't," de Lusignan confirmed. "The King has almost made peace with Saladin. You are highly likely to fail." He smirked darkly. "And if you fail, then King Richard will roar like a lion but in rage, not in pain. Then he will show you his heart of the lion."

The Sheriff laughed. "The King will never win. I will have England. I want to see myself the heart of King Richard – I want to know whether the King indeed has the heart of the lion." He chuckled. "You, Monsieur, are a traitor to Prince John."

"Oh," de Lusignan said, deflated. "I am giving you a good advice. I told you the truth."

The Sheriff stood up and strode towards the chair where the King of Cyprus sat; he stopped near him and dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword. "What do you think I should do to traitors to Prince John if they don't agree that the timing for our triumph is right? I cannot step back when I am so close to have England. Use your common sense, Monsieur." He smiled widely. "You can guess what I will do."

Guy de Lusignan jumped to his feet. "You want me dead!"

The Sheriff sniggered. "Well, yes, I suppose so," he conceded. "I will not deny that."

Vaisey tightened his hand on the hilt of his sword; he swiftly drew his sword and then plunged the blade into de Lusignan's chest. The King of Cyprus reeled backward; torrents of blood spurted from his wound like a fountain, and he was almost choking with hot, crimson liquid, struggling for every breath. De Lusignan tumbled to his knees and dropped on his back, his eyes shut; he was dead.

Sheathing his sword, the Sheriff turned away with a curse that would have caused a sailor to blink. Guy and Archer were moving towards the Sheriff and the corpse, their faces white in horror.

"Why did you do that, Lord Vaisey?" Archer asked, his voice shaking.

"My lord…" Guy looked at the Sheriff in amazement.

"Look, boys, how Kings die! Look and learn." Vaisey smiled earnestly as though nothing happened and he hadn't killed in cold blood. "The King is dead! Long live the King!"

"He was working for the Black Knights," Guy muttered, looking at the pool of blood on the floor.

"He outlived his usefulness," the Sheriff barked. "We must go."

An absolute hush fell over the tavern as the visitors looked at the three men standing above the corpse of the cloaked man, and then a buzz of whispers started and grew. A shocked servant who was walking by with a tray of drinks dropped the tray on the floor. The music stopped, and every pair of eyes stared at Vaisey and his companions. Then someone screamed something about the murder, while prostitutes broke into a fresh spate of tears and entreaties. Some people made their way towards them.

Vaisey only laughed. He surprised everyone and gave a large purse of golden coins to the people who approached them; then he ordered Guy and Archer to leave the tavern.

The Sheriff spun around and stormed out of the tavern, marching fast towards the docks, Guy and Archer close behind. It was already dark by this time and only torches on the buildings here and there served to illuminate the harbor. They didn't talk and only followed Vaisey, everyone locked in their own thoughts. They stopped only near the inn where Marian and Isabella had been placed before.

"We are sailing to Acre right now," Vaisey declared.

Archer looked at the sky; then he swung his gaze at the bay. "We will sail right into the storm."

"Yeah, the storm?" The Sheriff laughed. "I don't care about the storm. We must be in Acre as soon as possible. We must try to kill the King before he signs the peace treaty with Saladin. We will be in Acre in several days if we sail right now." His face turned serious. "And even if we fail to do this before the peace treaty is signed, we have to kill the lion before he leaves the Holy Land."

"And what about Guy de Lusignan?" Guy's voice sounded oddly unfamiliar, for he felt almost numb in the consequence of the shock the last murder the Sheriff had committed.

"Oh, Gisborne, you have nothing to worry about. I have thought out everything." the Sheriff said with a sour smile. "De Lusignan was disguised. Nobody will recognize him as the King of Cyprus before his cloak is removed and they see his clothes. I paid for their silence and letting us get away. But when they recognize who he is, the commotion will escalate. His death will be our secret in the darkness."

Bewilderment leapt alive in Guy's eyes. "My lord, he was on our side."

Vaisey snarled, and then grabbed Guy's shoulders. "We have to leave, Gisborne, and right now. We are very close to power and we will get it. Get a hold of your emotions. I need you, my boy."

Guy looked lost. "My lord, I am…" He stuttered; bewilderment was now replaced by sheer shock.

Vaisey stared back at him, hands on hips. "Don't provoke me, Gisborne."

Guy hesitated, but then the moment was past and he knew it. "I am sorry, my lord."

"I want the pleasure of killing the King! King Richard the Lionheart is sentenced to death!" Vaisey said, drawling every word, savoring the moment as if he were a judge handing down a verdict.

"Very gallant of you, Lord Vaisey, to sentence to death the King of England and anyone else when you have no power to do it," Archer snarled at the older man.

The Sheriff's eyebrows rose. "Your surprise me very much, Archy. What is going on in your little empty head? Prince John hired you to kill King Richard because Lord Sheridan and the Prince were impressed by your fighting skills. I also know that you had been interested in the contract on capturing and killing Robin Hood in England before we learnt that Hood had run away to his precious King. Now you have a chance to kill the King and Hood."

"I am not repudiating the contract," Archer countered.

Guy regarded Archer with interest. "But the circumstances changed."

"Maybe," Archer agreed, hesitating for the first time since he had learnt the truth of his birth.

"Shut up, you idiots!" Vaisey shouted. "We are sailing in an hour! Bring Gisborne's lepers on the ship."

They sailed from the port of Limassol for the open sea, into the darkness and heavy rain. Just as the wind snapped the sails into service, the little vessel slipped slowly out of harbor from between the two approaching ships, which hurried to cast anchor in Limassol and wait for the storm to abate. The storm was building in strength, with the most violent flashes of lightning as well as cracks of thunder. Yet, the Sheriff fumed that they should have increased the speed and kept going forward, ignoring the severe storm. The shores of the Holy Land lay somewhere ahead, swaddled in a fatal veil of death and sodden with blood spilled by the Christians and the Saracens in those lands.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_I am sorry for a delay in an update, but real life was hectic and I had no time to do it earlier._

_In this chapter, there is a small love triangle that includes Robin, Melisende, and Robin's close friend Robert de Beaumont. My dear funnygirl00, I want to congratulate you, for you were right when you noticed in the first part of Quintessence that there was something intriguing between Robert and Melisende. It is not a triangle because Melisende and Robert are only friends and their relationship is over, but they still were very close and had deep affection for each other._

_Melisende Plantagenet is not as white and ideal as she may seem to someone at first glance; she has some secrets about her past, though she makes a confession to Robin on the wedding night. Why do I need it? Melisende was born in Aquitaine, she grew up at the royal court in Poitiers, and she is a character who is somewhat similar to Eleanor of Aquitaine. Ladies from Aquitaine were influenced by the art of troubadours and Aquitanian highly cultured environment, so it is highly likely that Melisende could have taken lovers. And, truth be told, I am not very fond of "pure" and dull maidens, for they seem to lack some conflict of personality while I like bring sensitive drama into the plotline._

_Vaisey, Guy, and others continue their journey to Acre. As you see, more people will participate in the regicide attempt on King Richard's life than on the show. The framework is different, but there will be some spoilers from the end of season 2 when the Sheriff attempts regicide._

_Finally, I brought Archer into the picture, which I promised to do a long time ago. Archer is portrayed as someone between Robin and Guy: he is not as honorable, high-minded, and altruistic as Robin is, but he is not as practical, cruel, full of conflict, and dark as Guy is. So far, Archer hates Robin and wants to take his revenge on his older half-brother for having everything while he had nothing and grew up in poverty. Yet, he is hesitating and he despises Vaisey._

_Marian makes another attempt to persuade Guy not to kill the King, but she fails. At least now Marian understands that Guy doesn't want to kill the King, but he feels that he is trapped: he is trapped by Vaisey who pressures him to kill Richard and he is trapped by his own past transgressions because he is already a traitor to King Richard. And Guy certainly has nothing to thank King Henry for because the old King once seduced his mother and because Roger of Gisborne's loyalty to the King didn't help him and Guy was dispossessed. Of course, Guy doesn't know the truth yet about his true relationship with the King and he still hates Robin, blaming him for all his misery._

_The Sheriff, Guy, and Archer meet Guy de Lusignan, who was the King of Jerusalem from 1186 to 1192 by right of marriage to Sibylla of Jerusalem, and of Cyprus from 1192 to 1194. In chapter 9 in the first part of Quintessence, Lord Walter Sheridan announced on the assembly of the Black Knights that he had managed to bring Guy de Lusignan on their side and make them their spy. I needed Vaisey to meet de Lusignan because the Sheriff must know that the King has almost achieved peace in the Holy Land; it changes something in Vaisey's plans and he becomes more desperate._

_Moreover, I also planned to have Guy de Lusignan killed by Vaisey because it is the murder of the King and in some way it serves as a test for Archer and Guy, who are shocked with the Sheriff's actions – Vaisey easily killed the rightful King of Cyprus and one of the Black Knights. In this story/novel, the time of Guy de Lusignan's death almost coincides with the date of his death in real history: Guy de Lusignan died on 18 July 1194, while in this story Vaisey kills him in end of July 1194; the regicide attempt in Acre will take place at the beginning of August 1194._

_This chapter is the last "quiet" chapter before the drama in Acre begins. Chapters 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9 are very dramatic and full of emotions, angst, and mental anguish because the events in the Holy Land are shocking and tragic. Chapters 4, 7, 8, and 9 are the most turbulent and dramatic chapters. I warned you that I cannot guarantee that everyone will survive in the Holy Land._

_The next chapter is overemotional and highly important for Robin of Locksley and King Richard. Maybe I will be able to post it very soon, maybe immediately after the New Year, for I will have enough time to do that, but I am still waiting for the edited version of the chapter from my cousin. I will be travelling, but I will have access to Internet._

_Did you like this chapter? Please tell me the truth. I always welcome civil discussions and critique._

_By the way, I uploaded oneshot "A lesson of killing" about Guy and the Sheriff; fans of Guy may check it. This oneshot is a standalone story, but it is also an additional scene to Quintessence. This scene is not a part of Quintessence, but there is a reference to these events in chapter 11 of part 1, when Guy tells Marian about his life in Normandy after his banishment from Locksley; he also tells her about his first meeting with Vaisey and the events which prompted him to become the Sheriff's squire._

_Have a beautiful and merry Christmas! Share the spirit of peace and happiness on this day with your acquaintances and loved ones. Many people say that Christmas fills the world with the magic of believing, and I wish you to have a joyous Christmas and a bright and beautiful New Year!_

**_Reviews are always appreciated, including well grounded criticism._**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, Amaranthe Athénaïs_


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Bitter truth**

More than two months passed since the wedding of Robin and Melisende. Many things changed since then. The Crusaders continued working hard and relentlessly for peace, and King Richard was happy that Sultan Saladin graciously accepted the offer to begin the peace negotiations in several weeks. Of course, everyone realized that once the peace between King Richard and Saladin was made, many peculiar things could happen: men often found it easier to fight the war than to live in peace. Yet, everyone was so tired of the bloody and endless holy wars that they felt as though their lives had depended on peace with Saladin, which would transform the dark times to blinding white.

Saladin sent to Acre as his representatives two men – Prince Al-Afdal, his eldest surviving son and heir, and Prince Malik, Saladin's nephew. King Richard was represented by Sir Robin Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntington; Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester; Monsieur Henry de Champagne, Count de Champagne and King of Jerusalem; and Sir Carter Leighton of Stretton, Baron Clifton.

The two rows of Saladin's security guards stood outside the tent occupied by Prince Malik and Prince Al-Afdal, forming a path with swords and lances to the opening of the tent. Robin and his friends dismounted, and the Saracen guards hurried to take their horses by the reins and lead them away. They unbuckled their swords as the custom demanded, then handed them over to the Saladin's guards. Surprisingly, they were told that they could have taken their weapons inside the tent, which probably was a sign of trust between the King's men and the two Princes.

King Richard's representatives entered the tent of the Saracen Princes, sweeping their eyes over the luxurious Arabic splendor. In the dim light, they saw two young Saracen men – Prince Malik and Prince Al-Afdal, who stood in the middle of the tent, staring at the Christian guests.

The Saracen Princes were clothed in rich Arabic robes, which were made out of deep ruby silk and were elaborately embroidered with gems and jewelry stones; white turbans adorned their heads, and Saracen curved swords hung at their sides. Everything about the two Princes marked them as lords or Princes: their proud bearing and posture, their extraordinary mannerism, the rich clothes they wore, and their handsome and strong features which showed undeniable authority and regality.

"Praise be to Allah, the Lord of the universe," Prince Al-Afdal began in a majestic voice. "In the name of Allah, the lord and giver of mercy, and Mohammed his prophet, peace be upon him, we welcome the representatives of King Richard the Lionheart. Peace be with you."

The Christians bowed deeply to the Saracen Princes.

Prince Malik hurried to meet the Crusaders and approached Robin at first, taking both his hands as if they were old friends, not enemies, meeting after a long separation. "Robin of Locksley, I am glad that we have another chance to meet each other," he said in English, his Arabic accent very distinguishable.

Robin of Locksley bowed to the Prince, smiling brightly. "Malik Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb, I am happy to meet you here." He genuinely liked the Prince since their first meeting in Nottingham.

Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, bowed to the two Princes. "Malik Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb, I am more than happy to meet you." His eyes flew to Al-Afdal. "Al-Afdal ibn Salah ad-Din, I have to say that our meeting is a pleasant surprise. We are happy that you returned home, to your esteemed father, alive." He grinned. "It is good that our second meeting is happening in a better environment."

Prince Al-Afdal laughed. "Certainly, it is much better to negotiate the terms of the peace treaty than to die in the desert."

The Crusaders looked at Robert with silent question. Only Robin smiled knowingly.

Robert smiled smugly. "Well, I once saved Prince Al-Afdal's life. Like Robin, I am the savior of the Saracen Prince," he informed proudly. "It happened when Robin was in England."

Robin grinned sheepishly. "Robert, it means that we are the two saviors of the Princes."

Prince Malik smiled back. "Indeed."

"Undoubtedly, they are our two saviors." Prince Al-Afdal let out a brief laugh. "Lord Leicester saved my life in the open desert when Robert de Sablé's treacherous men tried to kill me and my guards," he explained. "I don't want to remember the case. That's why you don't know about it."

Prince Al-Afdal and Prince Malik greeted the King of England's party with greater heartiness than any of them could have expected. The Saracen Princes only smiled at the astonished faces of their Christian guests. Prince Malik pointed his finger at the massive of multicolored pillows scattered across the floor behind the low wide table. They settled there comfortably, reclining comfortably among soft cushions.

"Do you want to hear our terms?" Prince Al-Afdal questioned.

"Yes, we do," Robin confirmed, a smile hovering over his lips. "We have come here in the name of King Richard the Lionheart and with a heartfelt desire to put the end to the war that has continued for so many years. We will listen to your terms of peace, and we will respect and consider your demands."

Stretching his long legs on the floor, the Earl of Leicester stared at the Prince. "Our King hopes that our negotiations will be brief as we seem to understand each other's needs and demands very well. Anyway, please tell us everything, without evasion, for nobody needs this war to continue any longer."

"This war must end," Prince Malik agreed. "And this is the reason why we gathered here today."

"King Richard wants peace, and so does Saladin. We all want peace in the Holy Land. From our side, we are interested in the urgent resolution of the matter," Henry de Champagne said flatly, his face straight and serious. "We don't wish to exchange empty promises and discuss impossible terms."

"Quickly and effectively," Carter of Leighton said, summarizing their objectives.

"Let it be so then," Al-Afdal replied, smiling at them.

"Allah wills it," Malik said with a smile.

"Then we shall begin," de Champagne said.

Prince Malik looked at Robin and smiled with genuine warmth at him. "Before we start, I want to pass to all of you Saladin's warmest regards and best wishes to the brave and glorious King Richard." He paused, his eyes darting between Robert and Robin. "My Uncle Saladin also asked me to pass to the Earl of Huntington and the Earl of Leicester his warmest regards and thanks for the salvation of my life in Nottingham and the salvation of Al-Afdal's life in the desert."

Prince Al-Afdal smiled. "My father said that he admires and loves Sir Robin and Sir Robert even though he saw you both only in a distance on the battlefield."

Looking ever so much like a mischievous cherub, Robin smiled at the two Princes. "You have nothing to thank us for. Please pass to Saladin our best regards and warm greetings from our King."

"We will," Al-Afdal agreed, imps of mischief lighting his hazel eyes. "Now I believe we should begin."

Robin nodded. "_All cities can be conquered, and Jerusalem as well, but not all cities can be held as easily as they can be taken_," he said in a steady voice. "_In the light of the above, we don't plan to conqueror the holy city, and we do request only safe and free passage for the Christians there_."

The negotiations went smoothly. There were no heated discussions of the peace treaty, for both sides knew what they wanted. As the evening closed silently around Acre, a deepening darkness that brought fresh cooling sea breeze and increased the humidity, somehow making it seem as if they were sucking in water with every labored breath, the truce for three years was achieved by the representatives of King Richard and Saladin. If the Prince of Antioch and the count of Tripoli desired, they could have also been included in the treaty.

_In accordance with the peace treaty, the Crusaders were to hold all the lands along the coast from Tyre to Jaffa. It was agreed that both Christians and Saracens were to have free passage through the land of Palestine and to Jerusalem_. However, only pilgrims bearing King Richard's banner could have been granted a safe passage to the holy city; the French Crusaders were not given an opportunity to visit Jerusalem. The Third Crusade was over, and pilgrims could start making visits to the holy city and its shrines. The kingdom of Jerusalem as a political and military power was finally re-established officially.

Although Robin, Robert, Henry, and Carter implored the King of England not to make the restrictions for the French, Richard rejected all their rational arguments and pleas. The Lionheart was infuriated and felt betrayed by Philippe's treacherous actions: the King of France was attacking Richard's lands in Normandy and it was rumored that the man had set up an alliance with Prince John to murder King Richard and then divide the lands of the Angevin Empire between England and France.

The Crusade had begun on a bright note for King Richard and King Philippe, who had been allies and had organized their own expedition in the Holy Land to liberate Jerusalem. Without the aid of the English and French Crusaders who had arrived in the autumn of 1189, Guy de Lusignan's attack on Acre would have been a futile gesture, and it had probably been the coming of King Richard and his great generals – Walter Sheridan, Robin of Locksley, Robert de Beaumont, Andre de Chauvigny, Roger de Lacy, and several other capable men, as well as Henry de Champagne and Hugh de Burgundy from the French side, which made the eventual capture of the city certain. Nevertheless, presently the initial role of the French soldiers in the Crusade didn't matter, for the relations between Richard and Philippe were damaged forever, and the lion was not going to make any gifts to the French.

"Melek-Ric has many great servants," Prince Al-Afdal proclaimed as he signed the treaty and stamped the treaty with Saladin's personal seal. Then he ran his eyes over the Crusaders. "Robin of Locksley, Robert of Leicester, Henry de Champagne, Carter of Stretton, you are the heroes of your countries and the most loyal subjects of your King. I am delighted to meet you today."

Prince Malik ran his eyes over the representatives of King Richard. "All of you worked for peace tirelessly and devotedly. All of you contributed a great deal to the achievement of peace in the Holy Land. May Allah and your God bless you for bringing peace into these lands."

"I feel in the same way," the Earl of Leicester admitted.

"Although I am not entirely satisfied with the results of these negotiations, I am glad that the war is over," Henry de Champagne said sadly.

Robin looked sadly at de Champagne. "I am sorry to disappoint you so much, Henry, but I want you to believe me that I did everything I could. I talked to the King and I begged him to change his opinion and decision, but he didn't want to make any concessions to King Philippe's men and vassals. "

At Robin's sad expression, Henry smiled cheerfully, an impish twinkle in his eyes. "It is not your fault or anybody's fault. King Richard, my Uncle, is not easily swayed from his course. He is a great leader, but he doesn't change his direction if he has already set something in his head."

Robin smiled gratefully at de Champagne. "Thank you for understanding, Henry."

"Oh, our King is very stubborn," Leicester added jovially.

"This meeting was both pleasant and productive," Carter said; he was the least talkative of them and always got straight to the point.

"I am happy that we have signed the peace, but I am deeply sad that we have to part our ways now, with all of you." Al-Afdal's expression was sorrowful. "May you go with the peace of God."

"God save you on your way to your home," Prince Malik said sincerely.

The King's men also bowed to the Prince in silence since there was nothing more to say; then they turned around and left the tent, with the signed peace treaty in their hands. Robin also bowed and wanted to leave, but he felt a hand gripping his forearm; Prince Malik asked him to stay for a while. At the same time, the Earl of Leicester was engaged in a lively conversation with Prince Al-Afdal.

"If God brought us together at a different moment, then you and I would have much to discuss, Robin of Locksley," Prince Malik said, smiling brightly at Robin.

Robin smiled back. "Yes, but we don't have time now, for we are leaving Acre in several days. So I am afraid that our conversation will be a brief one."

"Unfortunately, Al-Afdal and I have to depart back to Damask and then to Jerusalem, to my Uncle Saladin," Prince Malik pointed out. "You of all people should know how Saladin and his emirs value time, and I cannot allow myself to stay in Acre even for several days to spend them with one of the most extraordinary man I have ever met."

Robin nodded. "You are exaggerating, Malik."

"No, I am not, Robin," Malik objected, sending Robin a smiling look. "If you didn't save me from the Sheriff of Nottingham, I am not sure that I would be here now. And my high opinion of you requires me to personally thank you for the salvation of my life and the fact that I wasn't held captive in England."

Robin didn't reply for some time, his hand clasping his own wrist; then he spoke, his tone low. "_Every time I save people's lives I feel that I am doing a right thing. I can't explain that any better than that. Perhaps God is guiding my action. Perhaps I feel that I cannot let innocents die_."

"_There is something great in you, Crusader_," Malik began, slowly and contemplatively. "You did so many great things for your King. And I know that you did many amazing things for your people in England. You saved the life of your King so many times. You saved my life. You saved very many lives. I believe you are a God's warrior." His eyes flew to Leicester. "Your beloved friend, Lord Leicester, is also a God's warrior. He also saved many lives, including Al-Afdal's life."

Robin felt a twinge of guilt nesting in his stomach. He chose the King of England over the people and abandoned the people of Nottingham once again to fulfill a sacred mission – to save the King from the Black Knights and Prince John. The feeling of guilt plagued him since he had departed from Nottingham to Portsmouth and sailed to Acre. His only consolation was that he had been officially pardoned and his birthright had been reinstated; he knew that his friend Roger de Lacy would manage his lands well and would take care of his people.

More than seven years ago, Robin had deserted his people because he had dreamed of conquering the Holy Land for all the Christians; but later he had realized that the Holy Land belonged to everyone – to the Christians, the Jews, and the Saracens. Now he left his people out of loyalty to the King again, but not for the sake of glory and dreams to liberate Jerusalem from the heathens. And yet, he still had to sacrifice the interests of his people for the sake of the King; the guilt was his, and he knew that.

_Robin wondered whether there was any possibility to find the balance between serving the King and serving the people, but he had no answer to that question. The achievement of such a golden balance seemed to be founded upon ideals and dreams, while he had too many dreams in his life – stupid dreams that unfortunately were destined to remain only dreams._ Thinking that he was acting correctly, founding his course of action on his convictions and dreams, he faltered once or twice, falling prey to greediness and hypocrisy and betrayal of other people; thinking about those cases, he was lost, not knowing how to live and what to do, and he blamed himself to his inability to find an answer.

Robin squeezed Malik's hands. "You exaggerate my greatness, but I value your high opinion of me."

"I am rational and fair, Robin of Locksley. It is not so hard to figure out what you have done for England and for Melek-Ric, and how many people were saved by you," Malik replied in admiration.

"I am glad that you are alive and in good health." Robin smiled, almost modestly to his own surprise; he was proud that he had saved Saladin's nephew. "Now I say farewell to you, Malik. I leave you in God's grace and peace," he added, bowing deeply and respectfully.

§§§

After the negotiations with the Saracen Princes were over, the great banquet was arranged in the Citadel of Acre to celebrate the achievement of peace that had finally descended upon the realm. King Richard and other Crusaders, as well as many churchmen were seated at the high table, enjoying a feast of beef stew, marrow tarts, and stuffed capon and listening to loud cheers of the Crusaders.

Melisende smiled at Robin with a slow, enchanting smile, and he smiled back at her, a smile of such warmth, of such tenderness, that her heart lurched in her breast. She looked at him, her expression slightly astounded, but Robin only laughed, a fierce, exultant joy sweeping through him as he saw in the lovely violet eyes of his young wife the naked hope to be together with him.

Melisende was looking at King Richard who was conversing with Lady Isabella of Jerusalem and Count Henry de Champagne. Suddenly, one of Isabella's ladies-in-waiting came to them and smiled at her mistress, as well as the King of England. Then Isabella and her lady went away, leaving the King with de Champagne in a lively discussion, no doubt, about the signed peace treaty with Saladin.

Melisende took a goblet of wine and made a small sip. "Ladies like Richard."

Robin sipped wine, grinning sheepishly. "King Richard is a very handsome man." He placed a goblet on the table. "I would say that our King is even more charismatic and imposing than simply handsome." His eyes took in the King dressed in a royal purple brocade doublet and flat pants of the matching color, its wristbands and collar trimmed with diamonds and rubies. "It is inevitable that ladies like him."

She tugged at the sleeve of Robin's doublet. "Robin, I have a question to you."

He turned his gaze at his wife. "Ask whatever you want."

"I love Richard very much, and I have always been very close to him. As you know, I grew up at his court in Poitiers when Aunt Eleanor was imprisoned," she began in a quiet voice as she didn't wish to be overheard. "I know everything about Richard's love affairs before he left for the Holy Land. He was very discreet and the courtiers didn't know the names of his lovers, although there were not many mistresses who were lucky to be invited into his bed." She coughed nervously.

He eyed her attentively. "Pray continue."

Melisende leaned her head closer to him. "There are disgusting rumors about Richard. Here, in Acre, I have heard these rumors many times," she whispered into his ear. "They say that my cousin is indulging himself into… shameful things – sinful affairs – with his soldiers." She glanced into his eyes. "I know that similar gossip was floating before the Crusade, but it wasn't true." She shifted in the chair uncomfortably. "It is not true, isn't it? I cannot believe in that."

Robin looked astonished. "And you believe these rumors, my dear?"

She smiled brightly. "So it is as I thought. Just rumors."

"Certainly," he assured her.

"Great."

He broke into a loud laugher. As his laugh faded away, he murmured into her ear, "You cannot imagine how many times I was accused of indulging myself into a mortal sin of sodomy with our King."

She giggled. "Well, you and Leicester are usually rumored to… be honored to share the King's bed."

Robin rubbed his cheek. "On the Crusade, there was the infamous Anna Comnenus, a Cypriot Princess and the daughter of Isaac Comnenus. She was very young and was held prisoner by King Richard since the conquest of Cyprus. She was a lovely lady, and I guess some would call her beautiful." He shrugged eloquently. "I don't know what our King found in her, but the girl enchanted him for a long time and… she was with him in his tent many times." He emptied the goblet of wine. "And you know who his mistress was before our departure to the Holy Land."

"I know," Melisende said. "But I believe that no lady will ever have my cousin's heart. He is betrothed and married to a battle and a war, isn't he?"

Robin watched the King smiling at Henry de Champagne. "I believe so." He sighed heavily. "Our King is unlikely to ever love again… after the tragedy that happened to him before the Crusade."

Melisende sighed grievously. "He told you about the death of his only true love, didn't he?"

He nodded. "Yes, he did."

She gave him a weak smile, her thumb stroking his cheek. "Let's hope that our King will be content with fighting his battles and winning them. Let's pray that the war will not kill Richard any time soon."

He felt shiver running down his spine. "I even cannot think about his death."

"And so do I."

"Maybe Richard would find some consolation in his marriage to Queen Berengaria after we come back home," Robin assumed. "It would be not bad at all."

Melisende shrugged casually. "I believe that Richard will never return to the Queen's bedroom. He lost hope to sire an heir on her, and he doesn't want to be with her anymore."

"I know. He told me the same once."

"Well, it is quite understandable. Berengaria failed to get pregnant with Richard's child while she was still in the Holy Land."

"I think you are right. The Queen's bareness is the reason why our liege sent his wife away."

Melisende smiled at him. "Robin, would you want to have children?"

"I do want children," he admitted with a sigh; he didn't think of having children with his new wife after Marian had married Guy, but he found that he strangely didn't object that. "Yeah, I haven't thought of that for a long time."

"Children are always gifts from God." She tilted her head to once side, grinning at him. She harbored a great joy that he wanted children with her.

"I dare hope that you miss me when I am not with you." Robin pulled her closer to himself.

Melisende smiled down into at him, her features stunned. "Yes, I missed you, Robin."

He laughed at her, watching the soft and joyful glow that spread slowly across her face as the meaning and heartfelt tones of his words gradually impinged upon her senses. "Do I dare hope that you won't object to leave the banquet a little earlier?" he asked carefully, grinning rakishly at her. "Are my very sincere sentiments returned?"

She made a quiet sound, half a laugh, half a sob; then she threw her arms around his neck. "Definitely, yes, Robin."

Robin rose to his feet and bowed to the King, who winked at him. He kissed his wife's hand and gave her a heated look. He stood up and went to the exit, where he paused briefly and exchanged greetings and congratulations with those closest to the door, basking in the attention once again in day. At the doorway, he paused and gave Melisende another attentive look, smiling slightly, a mirthful smile that filled her heart with warmth. Then he spun around and went ahead to his destiny, not knowing that in less than an hour his world and all his old life would lie in tatters.

Robin went outside and descended the stairs, going to the courtyard. He crossed the courtyard to another tower of the Citadel where the King's chambers were located and where Melisende was given her lodgings upon her arrival in Acre. He climbed the outer stairs and turned into the corridor, passed another corridor, and then he again ascended the stairs.

For whatever reason, Robin didn't go directly to the bedchamber he occupied with Melisende. Instead, he made his way to the bedchamber he had always occupied at the Citadel before – when he had stayed within the walls of Acre and hadn't been married yet. Nostalgia gripped his heart, pushing him to go to that room and have a look on the things he had brought with him from England. He opened the door and entered the room, sweeping his eyes over the surroundings.

With dawning delight, he glanced around him, and the scent of lemon and beeswax met his nostrils. There was the light from the candles that had been left behind by the servants.

In the flickering light, Robin's gaze fell on the old-fashioned, small steel box resting on the large oak desk in the corner of the chamber, where his father, Malcolm of Locksley, had kept his rings and some jewelry sets, including the jewels of the Huntington family. Wishing to have something with himself in the Holy Land, Robin had taken the jewelry box with him from Locksley when he had packed his things at the Locksley Manor in secret, under Thornton's watchful gaze.

Smiling to himself, his heartbeat quickening, Robin came to the desk and touched the box gingerly. His fingers tingled, and nearly reverently, he took the box in his arms and weighted it. It was heavy, much heavier than it should have been with only several rings and some necklaces which belonged to Robin's mother and which now he planned to give Melisende in the nearest future.

The box clutched tightly in his grasp, Robin sank onto a chair next to the table. Heart pounding harder and harder, arching with pain for the loss of his deceased father, he stared for a long time at the box he held on his lap. He had always been excited and scared, eager and simultaneously reluctant to open the storage of his family jewels, which was nothing more than a seemingly innocent box.

He drew a deep breath and, in one quick motion, opened the box. He found only Malcolm's jewels and his fingers carefully extracted the large golden ring with the largest emerald he had ever seen, one of the rings his father had loved most of all among his rings, and he remembered it very well. His heart beating faster with excitement, Robin slipped the ring on his finger and looked down at the exquisite piece of art. He chuckled as he didn't want to wear his father's large emerald ring which didn't match the color of his eyes, at the same time perfectly fitting the colors of the Huntington family crest.

He made an awkward movement, and the box fell down from his lap, the sound that was muffled by the scarlet-and-gold Aubusson carpet on the floor. Robin cursed and crouched to take the box back. He gathered the rings and necklaces from the carpet. Robin was about to place them back to the box when his attention suddenly attracted the small leather-bound volume that lay on the floor next to the delicately carved wooden piece, which could have been nothing else than a false bottom for the box.

Robin of Locksley shook his head in disbelief, amazed and bewildered, his mind racing in desperate attempt to find explanations why his father had gone to a great deal of trouble to keep the small volume, perhaps the diary, concealed from prying eyes. _What was so vital and so important that Malcolm of Locksley felt impelled to place the strange volume in such a secret hiding place where nobody could have suspected to find it?_

Robin was puzzled and curious. His father should have had a dark mystery if he had hidden his diary so well. He sighed heavily and prepared himself to spend several hours with the truth about the past. The only thing he didn't know was that his old life would be ruined if he had read that diary. Had he known about that in advance, he would have probably preferred to never read his father's diary.

§§§

Robin dragged a deep breath. His heart beating so frantically that he thought it could leap out of his chest, he opened the small volume. His eyes fell at the date of the page he opened – January 1168, almost a year before his birth. Robin lowered his head and began reading; he smiled at the sight of Malcolm's large calligraphic handwriting that was so easily readable and understandable, and he remembered it so well from his childhood.

_My dear Elizabeth, my sweet wife, fair-haired and green-eyed, has made me extremely happy with the news – our child will arrive in September or October. I would be happy to have everyone, a daughter or a son. I know that I am the last of my line and it is imperative that I have a son to carry on the title, but if we have a daughter this time, God will give us a son later._

Robin felt strange to read his father's words, and he smiled heartily, thinking about his parents, who married for love and were so happy together until his mother died in childbirth. As Malcolm and Elizabeth of Locksley expected a child to be born in the autumn, he supposed that his father had meant him. He let out a small laugh and continued reading.

_What a magically happy day! I am again at the court in London. I am so happy that I didn't stay in Locksley or in Huntington because life is boring and dull there. I know that my sweet, glorious wife, my beloved Elizabeth, is carrying my child, but it doesn't mean that I have to bury myself in Locksley. _

_Elizabeth became very annoying and lashes out at me day and night. She is very fragile and her eyes are often filled with tears of frustration that I am not always at her side. She doesn't understand that childbearing and childbirth are woman's deals, and I don't have to be chained to her for nine months. I love her very much, but I cannot tolerate her strange behavior only because she is pregnant._

_Here, at the royal court, everything is different. I am so happy in the splendor and magnificence of the court. Everyone laughs and smiles, enjoys feasts and festivities given by King Henry and Queen Eleanor. This is another world, and this life is much better than life in my country estates._

He stared blankly at the page, almost as if the book were playing a trick with him. He felt anger building in his chest that heaved with frantic, vulgar curses boiling up in his throat. When his mother was pregnant with _him_, his father entertained himself at the court! He was disgusted with Malcolm's words and behavior. His interest renewed, he missed several pages, then continued reading.

He frowned, then skimmed quickly over the heavy black strokes of Malcolm's handwriting. The two months Malcolm spent at the court were described in extraordinary details. Malcolm wrote about magnificent feasts and festivities, card games, dancing, and other entertainments, courtly love games, which were encouraged and worshiped by Queen Eleanor, as well as about King Henry's infamous infidelities. His father wrote a lot about Queen Eleanor's unhappiness in her marriage. The diary was full of day-to-day happenings, his father's deepest thoughts and emotions, and then there was a reference to another woman, who greatly attracted Malcolm and seemed to have grown fond of the young and handsome Earl of Huntington.

Robin's frown deepened. How could it be possible that his father was so much involved in the court life when Elizabeth of Locksley was waiting for him at home? Was his father smitten with another woman? Robin sighed heavily, and his fingers turned the pages more swiftly, his eyes flying across the written words. And then he found Malcolm's notes he made in late January 1168.

_I just made the most questionable decision of my life. I am going to betray my marriage vows and be with her, with this lady whose image haunts me every minute, day and night. I don't love her, and even her extraordinary beauty and notoriousness cannot make me love her. But I have never wanted any other woman as much as I want her. I want her to be completely mine, the lady of my dreams and the lady of the highest standing in England, with all my being, with every fibre of my body. She is not very young, she is older than me, but she is still so beautiful that my breath is taken away every time she looks at me and her rosy lips curve in a cold and majestic smile._

_Eleanor, the Queen of England and the notorious Duchess of Aquitaine, wishes to have me in her bed. I could have never dreamt that I would attract the Queen of England and that she would wish to take me as her lover as much as I wish her to be in my arms. Her lovely face, her blue eyes like the sky in the sunny weather, her beautiful body, her cold and proud facial features, her regality and even her cruelty – everything charm me so much that I cannot resist. I am bewitched and I am entirely hers._

_Eleanor doesn't love me and I don't love her, but we are attracted to one another and I became her confident. But she is so unhappy in her marriage, with our magnificent young King who betrays her with her ladies-in-waiting, kitchen maids, daughters of noblemen, and even with peasant girls. _

_Eleanor once told me that she grew to hate her husband, even though she was madly in love with him when she accepted his marriage proposal. She once came to talk to me, she was very distressed and was crying, and I saw that her beautiful neck was bruised. I realized that King Henry, who drank much at the feasts, had beaten his wife; Eleanor didn't tell me, to my helpless rage, but I noticed similar bruises on her neck twice and it was enough to make my blood boil with anger._

Keeping the place with his finger, Robin closed the book for a moment and leaned back in his chair. He was shocked and repulsed with his father, who forgot about his mother so easily and was so much attracted to the Queen of England. At least now he realized why his father had hidden the diary so well. He had to learn more what Malcolm had with Queen Eleanor, and he again opened the diary. He came to the entry dated February 1168.

_I am the most ignoble and wretched of all men. I forgot about my wife whom I love. I betrayed not only myself, but my dear wife as well. None of that is Elizabeth's fault, for she is innocent, and I have no right to betray her, but I can no longer fight with my desires and I cannot lose the chance to have Queen Eleanor in my bed. It is a rare honor to be the Queen's lover, and I intend to use my chance._

_Queen Eleanor came to me again last night, and we had a long, passionate lovemaking. She tasted of glory, beauty, passion, and challenge. Dear God, I wanted her so much that I thought I would die from urgent need to possess her, from pleasure. I know that what I am doing is not right and is unfair to my wife Elizabeth, but having an affair with the Queen is worth everything – it is worth even a quarrel with my wife. I cannot stop now, even if I condemn my soul to be burnt in the hellfire; I cannot give up on Eleanor until she wants me to leave her and never come back to the court again. _

_My poor Elizabeth! She writes that she often feels unwell and spends much time in the bed, confined to the bedchamber. She is pale and unhealthy, and the doctors are concerned about her health. She wants me to come back to Locksley or to Huntington, but I cannot return and I don't want to do that. I love Elizabeth very much, and I often dream of her smile, her sweet face and her gorgeous eyes. I am shuddering at the thought what can happen if Elizabeth learns about my relationship with Eleanor._

_But Queen Eleanor is different. I am attracted to her beyond any reason and measure. Passion for her overpowers me entire being, and I can ignore all norms of moral and honor to be with her. She is a pure wanton seductress. I understand why so many Aquitanian troubadours worship her as the Goddess of love and the unfading beauty of the world. I understand why so many men were ready to put the world to her feet, having nothing in return. This is not love, but passion, overwhelming and destructive. I love feeling her slender body moving beneath mine, and it would be like ripping the still beating heart from my body if Eleanor ever demands to stop our meetings._

Robin swallowed a gasp, his eyes widening in shock. His father toyed with Lady Elizabeth of Locksley's feelings and slept with Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine! He couldn't believe what he was learning from the diary. He wished that he had never seen the diary, letting the little book remain undisturbed for many more years, but it was too late.

§§§

Robin resented Malcolm for tarnishing Queen Eleanor. He couldn't understand how his father found it possible to sleep with the Queen of England. He hated his father for his wickedness and dishonor. He loathed his father for the fact that a beautiful and powerful woman could make him overstep the rules of moral and abandon his pregnant wife at home, in Locksley, only to enjoy the pleasantries of the court and continue his secret love affair with Queen Eleanor.

Robin wasn't the saint and used to have many lovers, but he would have never thought of sleeping with Queen Berengaria even if she had tempted and seduced him; he would have never betrayed King Richard in such a low and vicious way. There were things which a subject could never do to his King and his Queen, and everyone should have known that, though it seemed that Malcolm of Locksley had ignored those sacred principles of honor, which he himself had taught Robin in childhood.

"What other secrets are hidden in this diary?" Robin murmured to himself.

He had to learn what happened next. He had to understand what else his father had done. He wanted all the truth about his father and possibly himself, even if it was _the bitter truth_; the words sounded like a whisper, so much like a plea. It occurred to him that the diary probably contained information about the continuation of Malcolm's liaison with the Queen of England, and he forced himself to read more. The next entry was dated April 1168.

_Eleanor came to my room in the late night, alone and dressed only in her silk robe. Today she was distressed and cruel. She blamed me that I had brought so many problems on her, saying that if she had known the outcome of our liaison, she would have never slept with me. We quarreled a lot, but then we both succumbed to temptation and I again tasted the forbidden sweetness of her body._

_When Eleanor began crying, and I asked her what happened. She said nothing and only shook her beautiful head. Once I touched her cheek and she raised her tear-stained face to mine, we were lost again._ _When we finally parted with great reluctance, for the first time, there was silence between us. _

_And then Eleanor told me that she was expecting my child. I was shocked as I didn't plan that, but Eleanor said that she would take care of everything. She is so intelligent and so rational, and she has already decided what she would do. She said that she would hide her pregnancy from King Henry and everyone in the world. Then she would give the child into a family of loyal Saxon or Norman lords. King Henry would never learn the truth, and if he does, then we are doomed to die. _

_Eleanor also learnt that my wife was pregnant. She accused me of being a heartless monster and a womanizer, and then she ordered me to return to my wife to Locksley. She repeated that she would let me know about the child if she herself wanted that and asked me not to worry. She ordered to keep silent and never utter a word about our affair to anyone, especially my wife._

Robin drew an agonizing breath. He looked deeply troubled, feeling his heart fill up with apprehension, but not knowing what else he could read in Malcolm's diary. He couldn't believe that his father had gotten the Queen of England pregnant. Many questions were flying wildly through his brain, and he kept reading, with the terrifying sensation of suddenly stepping off into a dark, fathomless abyss.

There were no more entries between April and October 1168. Robin skimmed a page, and his gaze fell on October 14, 1168, the date of his birthday and the death of Elizabeth of Locksley. The tragic childbirth lasted two days, and Elizabeth's sufferings were described in great details. Robin's heart was broken, aching for his father; Malcolm seemed to have been genuinely shocked with Elizabeth's death. What puzzled Robin was that there was no word about the child – about _him_ as he believed.

He looked through several more pages and encountered another entry, which nearly killed him, his world was in tatters. His life was full of lies and illusions. His heart was bleeding, his world was broken.

_Elizabeth had given birth to my daughter by the end of the second day of her labor. My daughter was stillborn and very small; the midwife said that she had no chance to survive. We named her Adele as Elizabeth wished. With the look of deep sadness, the midwife declared that my wife had contracted childbed fever and that there was nothing that could have saved her. _

_I shut the door of the bedroom to be together with my Elizabeth in her last minutes. I didn't want to be disturbed. I had to watch for another day how Elizabeth tossed and turned in her bed, suffering from childbed fever and barely clinging to life. She died in the early morning, at the first light in the sky. I would never forgive myself that I didn't spent much time with her in the months before her death. Everyone was dead. I was dead inside._

_After her death, I refused to leave the bedroom and stayed with Elizabeth. My grief was overwhelming, and I thought of killing myself. I loved my wife and she was gone. I didn't come out of the room until the late night. The servants didn't know that my wife died and waited for the news with sullen faces._

_I would have been alone in the whole world, if I hadn't received a secret note through Thornton on the same evening. Thornton knocked at the door and said that he had an urgent matter to discuss with me. I didn't answer to his pleas until he said that it was from the Kirklees Abbey where Eleanor was hiding from her husband throughout many months. I opened the door and my life changed._

_My heart was pounding so hard that I thought I would die on the spot. Eleanor gave birth to my son, one month and a half earlier than she had expected. The childbirth nearly took her life, and she barely survived. But although the boy was born prematurely, he was strong and healthy, with my pale blue eyes and charming dimples on his cheeks. I had a son with Eleanor. I wasn't alone._

_Eleanor wrote that she had learnt about my wife's untimely death and she gave me her condolences. I learnt that the midwife, who attended Elizabeth's childbirth, was Eleanor's spy. Given the tragedy that had stricken me and the fact that it hadn't been announced yet, Eleanor offered to take the boy as my own child instead of placing him into the family of her loyal lords. She wrote that the tragedy could have been used to my advantage and I can officially make the boy my son and heir. _

_I had only to take the boy and made no announcement that both my wife and the child died. Instead, I had to say that my wife died but my son survived. Eleanor assured me that she would take care of everything and everyone who knew about the secret and that they would be silenced forever. And I did what she advised. I came to my people and stood in front of them. Then I declared that my wife had died in childbirth but that she had given me a handsome and healthy boy._

_On the same night, two women, cloaked in the black woolen coats, arrived with Thornton, who became our agreeable servant and the keeper of our secret. They brought the small bundle to me – my son. I took the boy in my arms and I fell in love with him on the spot. He was peacefully sleeping but stirred under my light caress of his cheek. He seemed so small but he was heavy and healthy. The fact that I had a son chased away most of the dark shadows from my heart, replacing them with joy._

_There was Eleanor's note in the baby's garments. She wrote that she had named my son Robert or Robin, and she demanded that I use the same name. When the boy was sleeping in the crib, the window was ajar and the bird flew inside the chamber from the forest near the abbey. The bird landed on the edge of the crib and started twittering. It was the bird Robin, and Eleanor decided that the name was good for the boy and was symbolical. Since then, my Robin and I live together in Locksley._

Robin closed the volume and threw it on the carpet. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against hot tears. He climbed to his feet and walked eagerly to the window, attempting to have a look on the sun sinking beside the vast blue sea. His eyes filled with tears that freely streamed down his cheeks, a heavy, pulsating ache already building in his body.

For some reason, he turned around and stared at the diary on the floor. He had never expected that he would learn such intimate things from his father's private life. He had never imagined that the woman he had called his mother wasn't his natural mother and that he was a bastard. He swallowed with difficulty, a lump formed in his throat. His life was ruined, and he didn't know what to think of the truth and how to live with the knowledge that all his life was a fairytale created for him by Queen Eleanor.

Robin returned to the chair and collected the small volume from the floor; then he continued reading his father's diary. There were a great deal of entries about Malcolm's love for Robin, his deep mourning for the loss of Elizabeth, and the guilt for the betrayal of Elizabeth which corroded his father's heart. There was no word about Queen Eleanor, apart from the only one that she had been imprisoned by her husband. Throughout many pages, it was as if Eleanor had never disappeared from Malcolm's life. The diary was full of day-to-day happenings in Locksley and in Huntington; many entries were devoted to Robin's life and his unusual character.

Many other entries were about the Gisborne family, especially about Lady Ghislane of Gisborne, whom Malcolm had grown very fond of and whom he helped to run her estate in Roger of Gisborne's absence. One of the entries said that Ghislane wanted Robin to be married off to Lady Isabella of Gisborne, but Malcolm betrothed Robin to Lady Marian Fitzwalter of Knighton, Sir Edward of Knighton's daughter, to ensure Edward's loyalty to Queen Eleanor, for they had to keep Robin's true parentage in secret.

Robin gave an exclamation of surprise at the revelation that Sir Edward had known the truth all the way along; he also began to respect the deceased man much more, for Edward had been keeping the Locksley secret and had been always loyal to Queen Eleanor until his dying breath. Yet, he didn't comprehend how Sir Edward managed to learn the truth and what role he played in the replacement of Malcolm's stillborn daughter with Robin.

He flipped through several pages, stopping to read the paragraphs about Malcolm's love escapades with Ghislane of Gisborne and his deep love for her. He had never suspected that his father had had a liaison with Guy's mother for several months before Roger of Gisborne's return from the Holy Land.

He stared down, in shocked disbelief, at another entry about the birth of Ghislane and Malcolm's son, named Archer due to his birthmark in the shape of arrows on his chest. Never had Robin expected that his father had a bastard son with Guy of Gisborne's mother and had planned to marry her. Archer's birth was the last entry in the diary, and Robin closed the volume with a snap, his eyes cold and hard.

Robin sat motionless and frozen, like an antique statue, holding his father's diary in his arms, his mind racing in a flurry of thoughts, tears oozing in the corners of his eyes. Tearing his thoughts away from the wanton pictures of his father's liaisons with Queen Eleanor and Ghislane of Gisborne, he strained to listen to the footsteps which sounded in the corridor. Then he heard someone open the door to the chamber, and he felt with his skin that the intruder stared at him almost immediately.

Robin turned around and his eyes fell on King Richard who stood at the doorway, a rueful grin lurking in the corners of his liege's mouth. _Robin stared at the King of England, his expression absent-minded; he was mentally exhausted and then dumbfounded as the realization dawned upon him what his real relationship with Richard was – Richard was his half-brother_. He lowered his head and glanced in horror at the diary in his arms, then lifted his gaze at Richard, who intercepted the direction of his gaze.

"Why are you here, Robin?" King Richard asked cautiously.

Looking up at the King, he drew a swift, short breath. "I needed some time alone, sire. Am I to have an audience even now?" He didn't stand up to bow to the King.

Richard looked surprised before anxiety flashed in his eyes. "Quite likely if your wife or I need you," he replied with a straight face, ignoring Robin's disrespectful tone and dropping royal etiquette. "Tongues and opinions are busy today. We signed the peace treaty with Saladin, but you seem to be unhappy."

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and Robin sighed, realizing that the King pretended that he didn't pay attention to his subject's rudeness. "I didn't do anything dishonorable here."

"Of course not," the lion said.

Robin inclined his head in courtesy. "Thank you for not reprimanding me."

"What happened, Robin?"

"Nothing," Robin muttered.

The King came to him and, looking with concern at the younger man's ghostly pale face, and then he took the small volume from Robin's arms. As he opened the diary and quickly looked through it; he blanched, his face evolving into sheer disbelief and then into utter shock. "Who gave you this diary?"

"I found it in the hiding place, in the box where my father kept his jewels, including the jewels of the Huntingtons. The box had a false bottom."

The lion sighed. "Did you ever see it before?"

"No, I didn't, milord."

King Richard exhaled sharply and glanced away for a moment before he swung his gaze back to Robin. "I have never wanted you to learn the truth in this manner," he declared glumly.

Robin shook his head, trying to shake off the sense of unreality. His already pale features paled even more. "I hoped I imagined that. So is it the truth?" he asked softly, almost choking on every word.

The King didn't answer for a while, gathering his composure and thinking of what he could have told Robin. The room fell deathly silent. His heart beating in thick strokes, Robin stared at the King's somber face, and he saw that there was the lost and sorrowful look in Richard's eyes which were kind despite the monarch's tight expression and rigid posture.

"It is true, Robin," Richard said at last.

"It is hardly the good truth," Robin managed to say.

"Make yourself comfortable and prepare to listen to me. It is a long story," the King stated as he settled into the red brocade armchair near the window that overlooked a formally laid-out garden and the seashore. "I will tell you everything I know, but I warn you that I am not aware of some details."

The King of England began the long and intricate story about Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine's miserable marriage to King Henry II of England, Henry's disrespectful treatment of the Queen and his sons, the story which was full of sorrow and pain. Richard said only a few words about the affair between Malcolm of Locksley and Queen Eleanor. He revealed that King Henry had learnt the truth about Robin's real parentage from Sir Roger of Gisborne, who had sought to buy Henry's forgiveness for the treason he had committed in the Holy Land by disclosing the Queen's secret to her husband. Then the King jumped to the horrid story about the hell of Queen Eleanor's long imprisonment, ordered by King Henry, with many delicate details, and about Bailiff Longthorn's horrible abduction of Robin and several assassination attempts on Robin's life after the fire at the Gisborne Manor and Malcolm's death.

Robin stared at the King in a stunned silence. He wanted nothing so much as to bury his face in his hands and weep. His expression was hard to define – it was a curious mixture of regret, pain, wariness, despair, and relief. Richard continued speaking, with his face impenetrable, for at least half an hour before he relapsed into silence and gave Robin a prick-eared and searching look. There was a shattering silence, broken only by their labored breathing.

A lethal silence soon became unbearable, and then the King spoke, his features devoid of any emotions, his voice calm, but his gaze grim. "I don't know the details of the affair our mother had with your father. And even if I had known, I wouldn't have told you because I have no right to inform you about such intimate details of our mother's private life."

Robin stared at the King, wondering how long Richard had known the truth. He wished to question him again, and his heart sank, for he was equally afraid to hear his reply.

"_The truth is bitter, sire_," Robin uttered uneasily. His voice was low and unsteady.

"_But it is the truth, my dear Robin_."

Robin shook his head in disbelief. "Am I really Queen Eleanor's son?" He couldn't believe that it was true. He was trying to reject the very idea that he wasn't Lady Elizabeth of Locksley's son.

"This tale is real, Robin."

"Then… you are my…" Robin stammered. He couldn't speak. He was overwhelmed.

"I am your half-brother," King Richard finished with a cautious and strained smile, but also a smile of rare warmth. "You share with me the blood of my better half – our mother's blood."

"Oh," Robin breathed, lowering his head.

"Whatever you want it or not, Robin, you have to accept the reality." The King leaned heedfully back in the chair, staring outside at the fashionable gardens; then his gaze slid to Robin.

Robin shook his head, as if he were trying to shake off the sense of unreality from his mind. He was in hell. Images of his past life haunted him. Pain was tearing apart his body, heart, and soul. Everything in his life was a lie. The truth shocked him to a further state of ice-cold panic. He could feel the frantic beat of his own heart. Emotions tumbled through his core with a thoroughgoing edge. He had never been so lost and so confused. He didn't know how to react, and he didn't know how to perceive his relationship with King Richard in the light of the new revelations. He was lost. He was falling.

§§§

Robin couldn't begin to understand all the emotions seething through him – anger, regret, fury, perhaps a feeling of genuine kinship, as well as longing, love, and disbelief. He only knew that he loved King Richard as his King and a dear, very dear friend. As strong as he had ever felt for anyone, Robin could definitely say that the only pleasant thing out of the truth was that he loved – dearly loved – Richard. And it was a real, vibrant, vital feeling for him to save Richard and know that his King was safe and alive. Out of all the emotions streaking through him, his love and admiration for the King, as well as his great respect to the lion, were the most real and understandable feelings.

Robin stared at Richard, his King and his newly found half-brother. _"If_ _I may ask you a question, sire, how long have you known all the truth_?"

"_For a long time_," Richard replied tiredly, suddenly looking older than his real age was. "_I learnt the truth on the day when I visited our mother in her prison, at the Pontefract Castle. She confessed to me in her love affair with Sir Malcolm of Locksley, and she begged me to help her handle Bailiff Longthorn who tried to kill you at the order of my father_."

"Now I understand," Robin said dryly, suddenly aware of the entire situation as his past emerged in his mind in all its sickening clarity. "It was you who saved me from Bailiff Longthorn when he stole me from Locksley and held me in one of the castles in the north, waiting for our good and gracious King Henry to arrive from Normandy and have a look at the Queen's bastard before murdering him."

"You have a very shrewd mind."

Robin looked pensive. "I was a small child at that time, but I have quite clear memories about my imprisonment at the castle." He paled. "I remember that it was very cold and damp in the cell where I was held." Tears suspended his voice, and he gallantly brought his emotions under control; only then he spoke again. "And… I was very hungry because the Bailiff took a particular pleasure in making me starve. He liked taunting me that I was no more than a small worthless puppy, starved and beaten. He also called me the bastard puppy, but at that time I didn't understand that."

The lion looked saddened. "Forget about that. It brings only bad emotions."

"But I have to remember because it is my life."

"Some things must be forgotten or left unsaid."

"Hmm, not these things," Robin objected. "Why did you save my life, milord?"

Richard smiled softly. "I saved you because our mother asked me to do that. I did that for her."

"Why didn't the Queen Mother do something to help me?" Robin laughed acidly. "My father wrote in his diary that your… mother, sire, had refused to ever see the child, and it had happened before she was imprisoned." He made a helpless gesture. "Of course, she didn't care for a bastard whose existence threatened to spoil her life." He deliberately refrained from calling Eleanor his mother.

The King slowly shook his head in disagreement, ignoring Robin's venomous statement about Queen Eleanor. "Robin, you must be reasonable. Before you accuse our mother of something, remember that she was imprisoned for more than fifteen years. Have you forgotten that my father placed her under a permanent house arrest after the unsuccessful revolt of 1173?"

"I do remember about that," Robin said quietly.

"My father was nothing more than a cruel and annoying presence in our lives. He imprisoned mother after he had captured her on the coast of England, and initially she was placed into the damp dungeons of the Dover Castle, the mightiest fortress in the land."

Robin gave a slight nod. "I remember history," he echoed his previous words.

"Then you should understand why she couldn't have helped you and why she confessed in everything to me," the King continued flatly. "When my father learnt about the secret from Sir Roger of Gisborne, he was outraged. Our mother lost her last chance to ever be freed while my father was alive."

"What did King Henry do to her?"

The lion's eyes darkened with remembered distress. "Henry Plantagenet ordered to harden mother's conditions of imprisonment. She was brought to the north of England, under the convoy and with several loyal ladies, to the Pontefract Castle. John de Lacy, Roger de Lacy's father, was never loyal to mother, and he kindly agreed to keep the rebellious Queen of England under the heavy guard and in the most miserable conditions. In the first years after he had learnt the truth about her adultery and its result, he reduced the Queen to living conditions worse than any most dangerous criminal could have."

"I am sorry to hear that," Robin commented genuinely. A lance of anger stabbed through him at the thought of the Queen's suffering at the order of the old King.

An expression of utter loathing on his face, the King stiffened and clenched his fists. "I have always resented my father, but it wasn't until I visited mother at the Pontefract Castle when I started hating him. God forgive me, but I wish it was father instead of mother who was imprisoned!" He gave a bitter little laugh. "I was prohibited to see our mother, but one of her most loyal ladies-in-waiting, Legrand's mother by the way, delivered her urgent note to me with the urgent request for the meeting, and I rode as a madman to Pontefract from London for three days and nights."

"And then she confessed?"

"Yes, she did."

"And what happened then?"

"After I had found you and killed Bailiff Longthorn, I delivered you back to Locksley, and then I brought to you my doctor, who tended to your wounds and tried to cure your fever. We didn't want to cause more gossip than it had already circulated since the day of your disappearance from Locksley. Nobody knew where you were, and we quickly made up a tale that you had departed to Huntington, so our small lie covered the time between your disappearance and the time when I saved you from the vile Bailiff and the time when you recovered and then returned to Locksley."

"But I was indeed brought to Huntington! When I awoke, I was in Huntington, not in Locksley!"

"Robin, you were feverish when my two loyal men, Sir Edward of Knighton, and I delivered you to Locksley. I think you simply couldn't remember those dreadful moments. I spent two nights with you, and then I ordered to secretly transport you to Huntington, so nobody knew what happened."

Robin arched a brow. "Sir Edward of Knighton?"

"Yes. Mother said that Sir Edward had helped them to conceal the truth from the beginning and that he would help me to free you. Under the cover of the night, I rode from Pontefract to Knighton and found Sir Edward there. Sir Edward told me everything about your abduction and kidnapping by Longthorn. Sir Edward was trying to find you during those three months while you were imprisoned, but he had no means to do that." He sighed heavily. "After I came to the Knighton Hall and he told me the story of your disappearance and abduction, I devised the plan to find and free you. Then we spent several days investigating where you were held captive. Finally, we found and saved you."

"Sir Edward was my father's old friend," Robin remarked.

"I know."

"Did Sir Edward know who you were, sire?"

The lion laughed, which was a joyful sound. "Yes, he did. He was amazed that I, Prince Richard at that time, came to his manor at three in the morning and assaulted him with questions about you."

"He was an honorable man," Robin said.

"Yes, he was."

"You yourself killed the Bailiff?"

"Yes," the lion confirmed. "I beheaded Bailiff Longthorn like a dog, for he deserved a cruel death. We dag a grave near the castle and threw his body there. He wasn't given Christian burial as I didn't want anyone to know what happened. I was very young, only nineteen, but I had already commanded large troops and rebelled against my father by that time. Beheading didn't seem something wrong to me."

Robin brushed his palm over the side of his sandy hair that roguishly hung over his forehead. "But why King Henry stopped persecuting me and allowed me to live in peace as the Earl of Huntington?"

A heavy silence stretched between them. The King watched Robin intently, the expression on his face hard to define, as he was thinking whether he could reveal more pieces of the bitter truth.

"We had a long conversation with my father. It was a difficult and unforgettable chat," Richard said honestly, his nervousness palpable, his eyes lingering at Robin's face. "Your father, Sir Malcolm, was dead." He paused and cleared his throat; he decided not to tell Robin more shocking news that his father's death had been fabricated. "My father was infuriated that you were alive, but he agreed to let you live on certain conditions."

Robin gave him a startled look. "Which conditions?"

The King let out a deep sigh. "Although it was not easy, father and I reached an agreement. I pledged to assure that nobody would ever learn about your true parentage because the Queen of England couldn't be disgraced by indulging herself into extramarital affairs and having a child born out-of-wedlock." He stared down and twisted his fingers. "There is something else..."

"What?" Robin was impatient.

The King looked straight into Robin's eyes. "_My father wanted to make sure that the Gisborne children would remain dispossessed and exiled from England, that you would never return the lands to them_. I knew that Guy and Isabella of Gisborne were banished from Locksley after the fire. They were already exiled and dispossessed, and it was not difficult to make such a promise to my father."

Robin looked amazed; something inside him snapped, spilled over. "Why did he want that?"

Richard sighed. "Sir Roger of Gisborne had been a loyal knight to my father, but he betrayed him in the Holy Land. My father wanted to punish him, as well as his offspring." He cleared his throat. "There was also another thing. Lady Ghislane of Gisborne was my father's mistress before her marriage to Sir Roger, and she was hastily married off to Roger after father had discarded her."

"But why?" Robin looked thoroughly alarmed. "Was Lady Ghislane… with child?"

The lion inclined his head in acknowledgement of the fact. "Yes."

"Is Guy of Gisborne…?" Robin asked, his face pale and shocked. He continued to look at his sovereign until the King almost squirmed in his armchair.

"Guy of Gisborne is my father's illegitimate son. Our mother was sympathetic with Lady Ghislaine and arranged her marriage to Roger of Gisborne to save the lady's reputation," Richard confirmed, scowling severely. "But Lady Ghislane was very ungrateful and told her husband, Sir Roger, the truth about your birth. She betrayed her Queen after all our mother's kindness to her, and her telltale tongue caused much misery to Sir Malcolm, you, and her own family."

Robin felt as though Earth had been shaking behind him. "Then Guy of Gisborne is your half-brother…"

"_You heard me correctly. Guy of Gisborne is my half-brother on my father's side, one of very many bastards my father sired on his numerous mistresses and whores_," the lion said neutrally. "_And you, Robin, are my half-brother on my mother's side_."

"I am, am I not?" Robin spelled out slowly, in amazement.

"You are, whatever you want that or not."

Robin blinked, shocked. "But then why King Henry wanted to punish his own son?"

There was a long silence as Richard's lips pressed thin and white with anger; when he spoke, his voice chilled the air. "My father never cared about his illegitimate children and even his legitimate ones; he loved John most of all among his offspring and spoiled him to the edge of sanity. He acknowledged some of his bastards, but the majority of them were not granted such doubtful privilege." He paused and sighed. "And many of his mistresses were not lucky. Lady Ghislaine was pretty unlucky."

"Why is that so?" Robin's voice was thick, a scowl manifesting on his face.

"There were rumors that Lady Ghislane was unfaithful to her lover, the King of England. When she informed father about her delicate condition, he laughed into her face and declared that he wasn't sure that she carried his child," Richard reported. "Our mother helped Ghislane and found Roger of Gisborne for the role of the lady's husband to cover her shame."

"And what then?"

Richard turned away, and Robin could not see his expression. "My father never believed that Guy was his son, and Lady Ghislaine's so-called betrayal of her faithfulness to her King hurt my father's pride and ego. Later, when he learnt about Roger of Gisborne's high treason and his mysterious survival in the Holy Land, he wanted Sir Roger dead. Later he also wished to punish the Gisborne offspring, Guy and Isabella, if I am not mistaken in the name of the young lady, for Ghislaine's so-called betrayal and for Roger's treason."

With something between amusement and trepidation, Robin stared at his liege. "And then you agreed to sacrifice your own half-brother to save another half-brother from King Henry's wrath," he concluded.

The lion leaned back on his armchair, staring uneasily at Robin. "I had to do that to save you, Robin, to let you live in peace in your estates."

"You sacrificed one half-brother to save another one. You sacrificed one bastard for another bastard."

"I didn't care for Guy, but I cared for our mother. I felt that it was my responsibility to save you and give you a normal life you deserved."

"Sire, you think that I deserved it? Why?"

"You did deserve everything the best we could give you because you are the son of my beloved mother, for whom I will willingly give my life; you are not my father's son."

Robin cringed at the chillness in his liege's tone. "Not your father's son," he said automatically.

"Yes. You know my attitude to my father: I loathe and hate him."

"I do know about that, and I understand you."

A frowned creased Richard's forehead. "Then please don't ask me such strange questions."

Robin drew in a sharp breath. "When I was fifteen, I went to Poitiers to have the knighthood training under Lord Sheridan's leadership. Sir Edward told me that he arranged everything and that it was a brilliant opportunity for me."

"I promised to take care of you, so that I sent my personal invitation to Sir Edward."

"I was your ward from fifteen to eighteen, and I often wondered why it was so," Robin brooded.

"It was done at my initiative, and Sir Edward agreed," the King explained.

"Why did you need that, milord?"

"Robin, it was necessary. I had known that I would have to fight for my throne with my own father several years before the rebellion actually took place." A heavy sigh tumbled from the King's mouth. "I was the eldest surviving son of the King, but father didn't want me to be the King of England. He wanted John to be his heir – always John, his only favorite and hope for the bright future! Father disliked me most of all among his sons because I was mother's favorite child."

Richard gazed away, at the window. Robin looked at the King, and he realized, with a painful thump of his heart, that the King was wistful and sad, even if his liege's face was impassive. The sun had already set; the darkness deepened and the moon rose bright and full in the black sky.

"I am so sorry for reminding you of that." Robin felt guilty that he saddened Richard whose heart was aching because of his father's rejection. Robin had no idea how the lion could have felt in the family where father didn't love his son because his mother loved him. Yet, he saw that the King's sorrow was the devastating experience, which his liege revealed to him for the first time in many years.

"No need to apologize."

Robin smiled. "You had wanted me to be out of England by the time the rebellion started, sire?"

"Exactly. You have always had a keen and lofty intellect," the King praised with a small smile. "It was dangerous to leave you in England close and during the rebellion, and I planned to summon you to the court in Poitiers at least six months before the start of the rebellion. As you were my ward, your life in Poitiers looked usual, not attracting unwanted attention to you and to the true reasons of your urgent departure from England. This is the reason why I made you my ward when you turned fifteen."

"And you summoned me, milord."

"I invited you to spend time in Aquitaine. I didn't issue an order," Richard corrected. "I knew that you would be tempted by a chance to improve your fighting skills. I sponsored a new advanced training especially for you and some other knights, including Robert de Beaumont."

Robin's full mouth curved into a faint smile. King Richard was a cunning man, more cunning than he had ever thought. He had known the lion for many years, but he was still amazed how many aspects of his liege's personality he didn't understand. Richard was a mysterious man in so many aspects.

"You thought out everything in advance."

The lion's lips lengthened in a smug smile. "Precisely, Robin. I had to do that, knowing your mischievous and rebellious nature."

An impish grin curved Robin's mouth. "And if I hadn't come there, what would have happened?"

A frankly mischievous smile tugged at the King's lips. "Is it a challenge?"

"Are there any consequences?" Robin said, excitement lighting up his face.

The monarch cast a mocking look at his subject. "Your challenge to my authority of your guardian would have been responded. I would have exercised my legal right to make decisions regarding many aspects of your life, including choosing the place of your residence and living. I would have removed you from England by force as a disobedient ward, sending a convoy of armed men to Nottingham. But you didn't reject my invitation; it went better than I had originally planned."

"I spent more than a year at your court in Poitiers while you fought with your father for the throne," Robin reminisced. "You sent to me your page with a letter, in which you prohibited me to go back to England until your notice. Only when the old King died, I was allowed to depart to Nottingham."

"I could have lost the war or be killed in the battle, and I didn't want to risk your life, Robin. If I had lost, my father could have gone back on his word." The King shook his head, at the same time crossing his arms on his broad chest. "I couldn't have allowed my father to persecute or kill you. Thus, I ordered you to stay in Aquitaine until I knew the result of the war with father."

Robin went still, very still. He was brooding over the mind-blowing revelations, terrified out of his wits by the number of things that turned out to be a lie in his life. The truth touched something deep inside of him, a part of him he had always kept intact. He was frightened by the raw emotion rushing through his heart. He had never thought that he survived the dark period after his father's death only thanks to King Richard and Sir Edward.

"I must thank you for the salvation of my life. I owe you," Robin whispered.

King Richard smiled. "You owe me nothing."

"No, I do."

"You saved my life many times. Your debt, though there was no debt, was redeemed a long time ago."

Closing his eyes, Robin let the memories unfold. "When I arrived at the court in Poitiers for the first time and was introduced to you, sire, you suddenly showed interest in me. You gave me swordplay lessons, you talked to me a lot, and you invited me for private dinners and hunting parties. You offered me your friendship. We quickly became close, to my utter surprise, I have to say."

King Richard smiled vaguely. "When I saved you from Longthorn, I didn't know that I would ever love you… and trust you. And then I saw you in Poitiers, I knew who you were, and you peaked my interest. I discovered that I liked you very much; it was the reason why I offered you my friendship."

"Sire, I told you about the fire that killed my father. I told you that I felt guilty of letting the villagers banish the Gisbornes from Locksley. I said that I wanted to find Guy of Gisborne and transfer the former Gisborne lands on Guy's name. And you strongly discouraged me from trying to contact Guy."

"My father was alive at that time. We couldn't have risked your life."

"For God's sake, milord!" Robin raised his voice. "King Henry has been dead for several years by now, and there has been no threat to my life during all this time. You could have told me the truth several years ago! But you preferred to keep silent and let me feeling guilty that I was unfair to Gisborne."

"I remember that you had tried to find Guy of Gisborne before we went on the Crusade."

"I went to Normandy and crossed it several times, but I failed to find him," Robin said.

Richard nodded. "I know. I discouraged you to try again as I didn't see the point to make amends after so many years. I didn't want you to hurt yourself by bringing back painful memories."

His heart beating frenziedly, Robin's eyes glittered furiously at the King. "Only once in my life, only once and only to you, I admitted that I felt guilty of the Gisbornes' plight and that I had hated Guy for causing my father's death, but that I still felt guilty." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "I also told Much about my guilt, but I opened my heart to you about all my fears and insecurities, about my guilt. You were the first person whom I trusted so much that I showed all my heart to you."

"I treasured your candidness and sincerity, Robin." The lion chuckled. "It was the first moment when I understood how honest and noble-hearted you are, Robin."

Robin looked both hurt and desperate. "Milord, I told you the truth, but you did nothing to ease my conscience. You did nothing and only told me that I wasn't guilty, even in spite of the fact that you knew that the situation troubled me and despite the knowledge that Gisborne is your half-brother…"

"I told you that you were not guilty of what happened to the Gisbornes," Richard parried.

"You knew the truth," Robin shot back.

"Yes."

The leashed anger radiating from him, Robin cast an accusing glance at the lion. "My actions on the night of the fire were dishonorable, and I regretted them for so long. I could have helped Gisborne."

Richard despised Guy and considered the Gisbornes the only reason for so many troubles he had to solve to save Robin. "I don't care for Guy of Gisborne, especially after he tried to kill me in Acre in that regicide attempt when he also wounded you from the back, cunningly and cowardly, not like a man and a knight," he replied coldly. "But I deeply care for you, Robin, and you know that."

"If you care for me so much, then why didn't you tell me the truth earlier?" Robin interjected, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Richard gave Robin a reproachful glare, but decided against doing a reprimand. "I had no right to tell you the truth, and I did that today only because you learnt everything from your father's diary."

"Why didn't you say something earlier, sire? I had a right to know!" Robin demanded with an edge to his voice, anger simmering in his blood, his eyes as hard and unyielding as steel.

"Our mother, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, is the only person who had a right to tell you the truth. She had an affair with your father," Richard responded calmly, neglecting to acknowledge Robin's outburst. "And she didn't give me that right. I had to keep silent, until today's events."

The King's favorite ran an agitated hand through his hair. "She didn't want to tell me, did she?"

"Yes, she didn't want that."

"Why?"

"She wanted to protect you from sufferings. Telling you the truth meant hurting you, and she didn't want that; I also didn't wish to bring any harm to your heart if we could have avoided that."

"You think that it better to live a life of lies, sire?"

"I don't think so; but some things are better to remain unsaid, at least for some time."

"For some time!" Robin exclaimed, growing angrier. "I can understand why you kept everything in secret while King Henry was alive, but not now, not after his death. Even if it was too late to change something for Guy and his sister, I think that I deserved to know the truth about my birth before the Crusade, when the old King was dead and you ascended the throne."

"It wasn't my right to tell you the truth," Richard snapped, obviously irritated.

"You should have told me the truth," Robin insisted. His gaze turned sharper and accusing.

The King threw Robin a dark look. "I owed you nothing more than I had done for you. And I also… didn't want you to learn the truth." He released a sigh of frustration. "I always fought with my brothers for power. We often were at war and entered into opposite alliances to defeat each other."

"You feared that I would betray you if I learnt the truth, like your other brothers," Robin surmised.

There was a long oppressive silence as they stared at each other. Everything was quiet, only the footsteps sounding outside in the corridor. Moodily, Robin of Locksley looked at his liege, puzzlement and confusion apparent in his eyes. Impassively, the King of England watched the inner struggle within Robin, his half-brother, guessing how their conversation would end.

The King sighed deeply, his lips twitching ever so lightly. In spite of the unpleasantness of the moment, Richard didn't feel so terrible yet since we had revealed the truth to the sandy-haired man, for he didn't want to tell Robin that. "You are right, Robin. Here, in Acre, I always wondered whether your loyalty to me would be unconditional and your affection for me so deep if you had known the truth."

Robin stared at him incredulously. "Sire, I don't understand how you could make me the Captain of the Private Guard if you feared that I would betray you."

"I didn't say that I feared that, but I considered such a grievous opportunity," Richard said, his face turning vulnerable and then suddenly blank. "I didn't think that you would betray me, but you have to agree that my family history demonstrates that brothers not only betray but also try to kill each other."

"I am appalled with a simple thought that a man may wish his brother dead."

"You are different from my other brothers, Robin."

"And that's why you made me the Captain of the Private Guard, milord?"

The lion sighed. "As I said, you are different from my other siblings, and I clearly saw that. And you also were the most competent man for this job." Another sigh followed. "I could have made Robert the Captain of the Private Guard, and he was young only rival for this position." He inhaled and exhaled audibly. "But I wanted to keep you closer to myself. So I appointed Robert the Captain of the Second Guard and gave your current position to you."

"I see."

"I deeply cared for you for many years. Over time, I grew to love you very much, Robin."

Robin's face softened at the King's words. Then, angry with himself for his brief lapse and reminding himself that he had been friends with the King for a long time, he spoke gently. "I have always loved you and valued our friendship, sire, and now I value it even more… when I know the truth." He held his breath before he permitted a deep intake of air inside his lungs. "I swear on my life, upon all that I hold dear, that I will never betray you. Not earlier and not now and not ever."

Richard smiled kindly. "I am glad to hear that; but you don't need to swear."

"And what are you planning to do with Guy of Gisborne, milord?"

"We will capture this man. He will be executed as a high traitor," the King responded dispassionately.

Robin stared at the lion in disbelief. "You cannot be serious."

King Richard gave Robin a long look. "_I am very serious, Robin_," he said in a metallic voice. "_Guy of Gisborne must pay for high treason. He will be hanged, drawn, and quartered._"

Robin turned pale, his hands were shaking. "No."

Richard nodded. "Yes."

In the golden light streaming through the torches that hung on the walls, Robin stared at Richard in sheer horror. He lowered his head. His throat turned dry. His heart was beating faster and faster. He let a long silence reign. He couldn't speak. Numbness overcame him.

§§§

Robin put a hand on his chest, right on his heart. His arms embraced himself and tightened around his chest. He swallowed painfully, aware of the sting of tears in his eyes. Then he swallowed hard again and took a deep, deep breath, the storm of fierce emotion flooding through him. He was shocked with the King's statement about Guy of Gisborne's prospective fate.

"_My liege, you cannot order to kill Guy! You cannot execute your own half-brother!_" Robin protested passionately. "_You won't kill Prince John for his desire to kill you and you won't kill Guy! It is an act of blasphemy to execute your own brother!_"

"_Guy of Gisborne is a high traitor and he will be executed_," the King reiterated. "_John is another case_."

"Why is John another case? Because he is legitimate and we are bastards?"

Richard looked aggravated. "Holy Mother of God, Robin! Did I ever care that you were born by my mother after her affair? I never cared about that! But the matter of Guy of Gisborne is different…" His face changed into white fury. "Gisborne tried to kill both you and me. He conspired with the Black Knights to assassinate me and he had already attempted regicide once. And he will pay for his crimes."

Robin climbed to his feet, staring at the King with challenge. "I beg you to reconsider, my liege." He shook his head. "Not now when I know the truth. I have to make up for the wrongs caused to Gisborne and his sister. Now I feel even guiltier than I had felt before I had read this damned diary."

"Robin, don't be naïve! We have to make him pay for treason, and he will be executed. His death is necessary for my safety and for your safety, too."

Robin tossed his head, his eyes desperate. "No, you cannot kill Guy! Not for my safety and not even for your own safety!"

The lion rose to his feet, displeased. "And who will prevent me from doing that?"

Anger darkened Robin's eyes that turned dark blue from pale blue, his mouth set in grim lines. "You sacrificed Gisborne for me! You didn't care that he is your brother; you let him live in poverty and disgrace somewhere in Normandy. And now you want to execute him."

"Let's change the topic," Richard admonished; he didn't want to quarrel with Robin.

"No, we should speak about Gisborne! He is really guilty and I despise him with all my heart, but he is your half-brother – you share blood with him and that's why you cannot execute Guy!"

The King remained unfazed in the midst of Robin's rage, but his patience was running thin. "That's quite enough, Robin. You have forgotten whom you are talking to. I have heard enough of your little angry speech than I wanted to hear, and believe me, I have been very patient. I am sorry you feel the way you do towards Gisborne, but it changes nothing," he said resolutely. "Gisborne will be executed for high treason. Either you accept my decision or you don't do that; it is your problem."

"No, no, no!" Robin shouted. His chin lifted rebelliously, a bolt of utter rage shooting through him; he tried to keep his roiling emotions in check, but he couldn't. "Sire, please! You cannot execute Guy!"

"You are better to stop right now," the lion warned.

Robin didn't hear the warning, and instead he laughed cruelly. "You wish to execute your own brother because he tried to kill you but failed. But you let John live!"

"I am not pleased with John's treacherous plots and constants attempts to kill or overthrow me, but I cannot execute him and I don't want to take his life. I don't have legitimate children and he has to be my heir, like Arthur. How don't you understand that, Robin?"

"I know that England will be torn apart if you don't name your heir, sire."

The lion rubbed his cheek. "At least here we are on the same page."

"But you share blood with Guy of Gisborne, even if he is a traitor!"

"There can never be absolute peace, Robin. Someone needs to be sacrificed for the greater good."

"Even if he is your own half-brother?" Robin persisted.

"Yes, even a brother, Robin."

Robin didn't understand the King at that moment. He felt blood freezing in his veins; he stared at the lion, his eyes blazing with anger. "No, you cannot do that." His tone was decisive.

The King fought with himself to restrain his temper as much as he could. "Robin, stop it! Gisborne is a traitor! He almost killed both of us!" He raised his voice. "I will not let you undermine my authority!"

"I am so disappointed in you," Robin declared boldly. "I am stunned that I see King Richard in front of me, the benevolent and gracious King whom so many people love and respect and whom I have admired and loved for so many years. Now I see only the vengeful King, as cruel as Queen Eleanor who didn't wish to see her own bastard son, me, after she had shipped me off her hands to my father."

King Richard frowned, beginning to look very angry, his lips thinning, his eyes narrowing and flaring up with a dangerous fire. His hands clenched into fists, and for one moment he thought of the pleasure it would give him to punch Robin for the stupid outburst of rage.

"You are an utter fool, all the more an ungrateful fool, Robin of Locksley." The King's voice was tense, indicating that he barely repressed himself from plunging into fury.

"I am not ungrateful! I am–"

"Ungrateful, spoiled, foolish, stubborn, impulsive, and hotheaded," the King summed up in a hissing tone. He slapped the table so hard that it rattled, throwing everything away from there. "While I may forget your disrespect to me, I will never let you accuse our mother of being cruel and heartless. Today you overstepped all the lines of appropriate behavior towards your King and your Queen."

Robin felt his knees tremble, his vision blurred, but rage was still working its way up to the surface. "Did the Queen Mother have to deal with the participants of this charade with my birth?"

Richard glanced away. "Some of them were silenced forever; I think they were poisoned. It must have been done for you because we had to make them silent. They couldn't have been allowed to live because nobody could know the truth – it is an utterly important secret."

"How many people?"

"Not very many, actually."

"And what about the servants in Locksley? Didn't they know that their lord's daughter was stillborn?"

"I cannot answer because I don't know these details," Richard returned. "But servants could gossip, and I had to deal with some of them, particularly curious and interested in the truth; I mean the servants whom I met when I delivered you to Locksley after your release from your captivity organized by Bailiff Longthorn."

"You killed for me…" Robin cursed under his breath, shocked by the sickening understanding of how far they had to go to keep the secret safe and give Robin a life of a lord and an Earl.

"I did. She did. For you, for your safety, and for your survival; for all of us."

"Sire, those people were innocent."

"Robin, stop it. I am bored with this conversation," Richard said, his face evolving into harshness, his voice metallic. "If you again ask me to spare Gisborne's life and if you do something to let him escape, I will have to use drastic measures. I will never let you undermine my authority."

Robin was horrified, but his grief with the unexpected revelation, the guilt and agony which the bitter truth had awakened in his heart pushed him to the verge of madness. "And what will you do to me, my liege? Will you execute me like you plan to execute Guy of Gisborne if I ever undermine your authority? Or will you order to have me tied up to the poles in the desert and then kill me, like you killed around three thousand prisoners who were brutally slaughtered at your order in the massacre of Acre?"

The King shivered in rage, his eyes narrowing at Robin to slits, his fists clenched. He started pacing the chamber like a caged animal and then stood rooted near the table. In one violent motion, he swept all the things from the desk to the floor, candlesticks and glassware flying in all directions. Breathing heavily, his face almost ugly with rage, he struggled to bring his temper under control, but failed.

"You are a stupid boy! You are an ungrateful brat!" King Richard snarled. "If you think–" He broke off, took a deep breath, and snapped, "that I will tolerate such an insult and such humiliation and from you of all people, you are wrong. Goddamn your rage, Robin! Goddamn your self-pity and arrogance! Goddamn your foolishness and ungratefulness!" He marched to Robin and grabbed his shoulders, his large palms shaking the slimmer form to the core. "I will not command to arrest you only because you are my friend and half-brother and because I owe you too much for saving my life so many times."

"And because I am Melisende's husband," Robin said with an immovable firmness.

Richard shot his favorite a contemptuous look. "You are even more foolish than I thought. Or are you too much affected by the truth that you lost your ability to think rationally?" He shook him furiously. "It was our mother's idea to give you Melisende's hand in a marriage in order to protect you from John and make your life safer by combining you with the Plantagenet family."

"I didn't need that. I would–"

"Robin, for Heaven's sake, you must think a little before you speak! You needed this marriage for yourself, for your own protection, after your open rebellion against John in England!"

"I… I…" Robin felt as though he had been in the thick mist. If he heard the King, he didn't show that.

With his mouth curving in a painful grimace, his forehead marred with a frown, the King shook Robin again, violently and without remorse. "I will never allow you to insult our mother, even if you hate her and hate me for keeping the truth from you and for killing some people to assure your safety." His gaze pierced Robin's face to the core. "She sacrificed too much for you, and you don't deserve it."

"Sacrificed?" Robin looked stupefied.

Richard shook the younger man again. "Yes." He drew away slightly. "I know for sure that many years ago, before she was imprisoned, she had feared to meet you, a small child, because she hadn't wanted to feel any emotional attachment to you. But she failed because she has always loved you from a distance. She has always tried to protect you, with an invisible hand and through me."

"I don't know who I am," Robin babbled, his expression lost and pitiful. "I no longer have a mother. I am not the Earl of Huntington. I am not Robin Hood; the hero died in Sherwood when Marian married Gisborne. I cannot be the Earl of Huntington because… I am a bastard."

"You are the Earl of Huntington. You are your father's son, and you have a right for the title."

Robin shook his head. "No, no, I don't."

"You are the Earl of Huntington, and nobody will ever say otherwise. We took care of that."

"I have no doubt that you did that," the young Captain snapped spitefully.

"Spare me your hateful remarks, you fool!" The King shook Robin violently, so violently that Robin thought that his lithe form would be split in halves.

"I… I… didn't mean to be so harsh," Robin defended himself.

"And yet, you are not only mean, but almost insane," the King reproached as he stepped aside.

"It is not easy, sire."

"I understand."

"Thank you," Robin mumbled under his breath.

Richard laughed quietly. "You are so much like our mother, Queen Eleanor," he stated emphatically, the corners of his mouth quirking in a slight smile. "You cannot imagine how much you took after her, not in appearance but in character."

"Is this why you always can predict my actions in advance?"

"Partly because you are similar to her and mainly because I know you too well," Richard answered with a small smile, but his tone was tense. "You possess our mother's impulsiveness changing into coolness in a matter of seconds, her hot and rebellious nature, her poetic and romantic sentimentalism, and her iron will. You are spirited and stubborn like she and I are. You are cruel in rage and often ignorant of those whom you love. And there are many features from your Poitevin roots in your character."

"Which features?"

"Robin, don't disappoint me! You are usually so clever and so quick-witted." The King's voice sounded lighter. "You always have fun as you call it. You thrive in drama and theatrical performances, which is a rare trait for conservative Saxon noblemen who don't understand and appreciate your mischievous nature. Your love for theatrics makes you stand out among all English nobles." He regarded Robin with respect. "I remember how much interested you were in the Aquitanian culture and in the art of troubadours when you were at the court in Poitiers. You speak perfect Occitan, unlike the majority of other English lords and ladies."

Robin ran his hand through his hair. "Oh, milord."

"What, my little bird? You usually have so much to say on any subject; don't be shy and silent now." The King laughed; his tone was mocking. "Or do you fear that the lion can eat his little bird?"

Robin smiled slightly. "You will choke with my bones, sire. I am not a delicious Aquitanian food you like so much."

Richard scoffed. "You are better than any kind of delicious food, Robin, especially your sweet tongue."

"Yeah, I know I am not easily embarrassed."

"I know you are not – right now you are insolent."

"I am sorry."

The King shook his head. "No, you are not sorry. I always know when you are lying to me."

Robin looked shamefaced. "You are right, sire. But I am still sorry." In reality, he was close to tears.

"I just know you too well, Robin. Now speak."

"Now I see so many things clearly."

"Certainly, you do because you know the truth."

"Oh," Robin sighed tiredly.

The lion laughed. "There are also many similarities between you and me, but I am more similar to our mother." He smiled with odd tenderness. "You are more high-minded, more generous and kinder than our mother and I could ever be; these qualities always attracted me to you."

"Perhaps."

The King took a step forward, closer to Robin and put his large palms on the shoulders of his Captain. "_Robin, you have to take a hold of yourself_." He shook Robin slightly as if he were trying to knock sense in the other man. "_Snap out of your self-pity and blind anger with yourself, Robin. It doesn't suit you well. This is not Robin whom I have admired and loved for so many years_," he said stringently.

Robin flinched at the King's words. There was an uncomfortable feeling in the middle of his chest, and he was conscious of a sudden desire to burst into tears of rage and shame. He was confused with the truth. He felt abandoned and betrayed by his true mother, though he had no real reason to feel either, for it appeared that the Queen was very loyal to him from shadows. His chest swelled with pain, as though the sharp blade of a sword lacerated his heart. Robin's already guilty conscience was loaded with shame of what he said about Queen Eleanor and of his disrespectful behavior towards Richard.

Robin sighed, guilt knifing through him. "_Forgive me, milord_," he whispered, looking down at the carpet; his eyes filled with hot tears. "_It is my entire fault that I disappointed and infuriated you_."

King Richard only shook his head, disapprovingly looking at Robin, still holding him for his shoulders, and Robin hung his head in shame.

Robin's heart wept, and he opened his mouth to say something else, frantic, hasty words hovering on his lips, but no sound came forth. Instead, Robin choked with a sob that rose to his mouth from his low throat. Tears sprang to his eyes, and Robin closed his eyes.

Suddenly, Robin felt a pair of tender, strong arms embracing him and holding him tightly to someone's broad chest. He vaguely realized that the King hugged him, tenderly and protectively, giving him as much comfort as he could offer to a grown-up man. Robin instinctively wrapped his arms around the King's back, clinging to the body of his liege as he sobbed his grief into the King's doublet.

"Shhh," the King breathed against Robin's hair. He placed his head on the nape of his half-brother's head, for the lion was several inches taller than Robin; then he began stroking the gorgeous mane of the sandy-colored hair. "You are shocked now, but you will get over that."

"I… I don't know what to say." Robin felt tears running openly down both his cheeks; he was unable to fight down the panic and grief, which the truth had caused him.

"Oh, Robin! You became a good and strong man, but you are still so innocent." The lion's hand brushed Robin's back before it traveled up to Robin's hair, and he began stroking it. "You can be such a child."

"Really?"

"Undoubtedly." The King smiled.

"Oh." Robin trembled in the King's embrace.

"Such a child that I even cannot be angry with you after your recent spectacle," Richard murmured into the disheveled sandy hair. "And, truth be told, I don't want you to lose your innocence because this is what makes you so human and so different from others."

"I will never betray you. I swear that I will never betray you," Robin blurted out in trepidation, both amazed and pleased that the King was so compassionate and considerate towards him.

Richard hugged Robin tighter, and they froze in a warm, affectionate embrace. "You will be fine, Robin. I understand that you are confused and shocked. The truth injured your tender heart, which is what we have always feared. Now, when you know the truth, you should act like a mature, grown-up person."

"How, then?"

"No anger. No bitterness. No offense. No hatred. No childish and angry outbursts. No ungratefulness. Only acceptance of the truth and resignation," the lion explained, his arms pulling his younger favorite and brother even tighter to him. "Don't be too much upset. Don't dwell on the past. You shouldn't blame us because we only tried to protect you."

Robin glanced up at the King, tears glittering in his eyes, making them crystalline; his face was a picture of despair and guilt. "I am so sorry, milord."

The Lionheart smiled faintly. "Accepted." Then he drew back and took a step back.

"Thank you," Robin said humbly.

The King patted Robin's shoulder. "For what?"

"For being honest with me. For telling me the truth. For protecting me for so many years."

The lion waved his head. "That is not very much to do for you."

"I should have been so disrespectful," Robin said hollowly. "I know that I was wrong."

"You were wrong," the King agreed, narrowing his eyes at Robin. "And I want you to remember that this is the first and the last time when I forgive you for such outrageously disrespectful behavior towards our mother, the Queen, and myself." His voice sounded metallic. "If you let yourself act in the same manner once again, you will have to suffer severe consequences, Robin."

Robin swallowed hard; he lowered his head in dismay and fear. "I will remember that, sire."

"I trust you will."

Robin didn't dare look at the King. "Thank you."

"Robin, look at me," Richard addressed to him meaningfully, his voice suddenly soft.

Only now Robin gazed at his liege. "Yes?"

"_No one must know the truth. It must be kept in secret. This is necessary for your own life and for protecting our mother's reputation, not speaking about the political stability in the Angevin Empire. You must never – never ever – share this information with someone else. This is too dangerous and risky_."

Robin gave a nod. "I understand that very well. Nobody will ever learn something from me." There was disappointment mingled with relief across his face, and then he laughed hollowly.

"Calm down. If your temper cools off, you will realize that there is nothing bad in the truth."

"I don't know…"

"You are too confused now. You will get over that."

"I hope so," Robin said dubiously.

"You will, I know."

"I will try."

The lion gave a twisted smile. "You should go to your wife; she must be waiting for you. We will talk tomorrow when your head is clearer and when you are well rested. Now leave."

Robin bowed to the King and hastily retreated to the door. At the door he hesitated and looked back over his shoulder, but the King nodded at him. Then Robin bowed again and left the room. As he walked to his bedroom, where Melisende was waiting for him, he swore that he would do everything in his power to change Richard's opinion about Guy's execution; at least he had to try again.

King Richard sighed heavily, relieved that the conversation with Robin was over. It was a long and difficult conversation, but the lion was unusually relieved that now Robin knew everything, though he was enraged that Robin insisted to spare Guy's life; he decided to execute Guy, whatever Robin would tell him, even if he had to quarrel with the younger man.

The King crouched and took Malcolm of Locksley's diary in his arms, thinking that nobody needed to find the small volume in Robin's former bedchamber. It was clear that Robin would learn the truth about his father's survival in the fire sooner or later, and Richard dreaded the final revelation, fearing to bring more bitterness and confusion into Robin's life. Richard didn't wish to be the person who would open that painful truth to Robin, breaking his half-brother's heart into many more pieces.

The King planned to keep Malcolm's diary for himself and read it tonight; he was really interested in the thoughts of the man who had pretended dead for so long. Then Richard intended to destroy the diary as they didn't need to have any evidence of Robin's true parentage. Malcolm of Locksley was a complete idiot that he hadn't destroyed such important evidence before he had gone into hiding, the lion thought. He thanked God that nobody had found the diary in the jewelry box for so many years.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_Well, I promised you that I would update very soon after the New Year, and I am not going back on my word. Here we go – you have the beginning of drama in Acre._

_Finally, Robin and his friends achieve piece in the Holy Land, which is a great victory for King Richard and every Crusader who fought the bloody and pointless war for the liberation of Jerusalem for so many years. The terms and conditions of the peace treaty with Saladin mentioned in this story are historically correct: pilgrims were given a safe passage to Jerusalem only if they could present King Richard's banner and only for three years, and the French were given no privileges despite rather significant role of some French generals, like Hugh de Burgundy, in the capture of Acre._

_In real history, King Richard didn't meet Saladin in person: the King's representatives, including Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, and Sir Henry de Champagne, Count de Champagne and King of Jerusalem, negotiated the terms of the peace treaty and signed the treaty with Saladin's representatives. Of course, I included Robin and Carter into the King's party: Robin, the peace lover and the King's savior, has to bring long-awaited peace into the Holy Land, while Carter is positioned as one of the King's favorites. According to my rigorous research, Saladin's representatives included Saladin's eldest surviving son Prince Al-Afdal and several other sheikhs, but I also brought into the picture Prince Malik as the canon character, for the man has a connection to Robin._

_Finally, the sensational event happened and the dark secrets of the past begin to unveil (remember the name of this story). Now Robin of Locksley knows the truth about his true lineage! As I promised, this chapter is utterly important for Robin and King Richard because they unexpectedly have to face each other in an entirely new light – not only as a King and his subject, as friends and as a mentor and his protégé, but also as close relatives in accordance with the captivating plot I invented._

_Now all the questions about Robin's true parentage and how he could be the Queen's golden boy are finally answered: Robin finds all the answers in Malcolm's secret diary, and later Richard tells Robin many facts and they also discuss them. If you are still confused with something, then I recommend that you go to the author's notes of chapter 10 in part 1 of this long epic, for you can find there a detailed and easily readable summary of the back story for Robin and Guy. I often write explanations or references to historical events in author's notes for your better understanding or if I want remind you of something important which you could have forgotten._

_Do you have any thoughts about Malcolm? He is certainly an impudent, nasty, and hypocritical man, right? Robin is a much better man than his father has ever been!_

_I do really feel for Robin. It was surely a very emotional moment – an overdramatic moment for Robin. Robin is shocked, confused, frustrated, astonished, angry, and furious, for it is not easy for him to accept the truth about the fact that his life was full of life and illusions. Robin feels betrayed, and deceived, and offended, but I don't see how he can be angry with King Richard in the situation when Queen Eleanor and Richard protected him for so many years and saved his life. So Robin remembers the only real feeling he has among his conflicting emotions – it is his love for King Richard. _

_The shocking revelations change everything in Robin's life and in Guy's life, too, and you will see what I mean in the next chapters. Robin knows the truth about Guy – he knows that Guy is King Richard's half-brother on paternal side; Robin knows about Richard's large contribution to Guy's unhappiness. Robin also learns that Malcolm had an affair with Ghislane and that she gave birth to Archer. Of course, Robin is acting completely in character: he is noble and he doesn't want to let the King execute his own half-brother even if Guy is guilty and Robin loathes him. In real history, King Richard was a cruel and vengeful man, as well as a very practical man, and Richard's desire to execute Guy for his crimes and high treason despite Robin's pleas comes across as a natural thing for Richard._

_But I ask you not to worry, my dear readers and devoted fans of Guy. I will ease your fears right now: Guy won't be executed at the King's order, but something else – something very serious – will happen. _

_It was a very difficult chapter to write, one of the most difficult in part 2 of Quintessence. It was particularly difficult to write about Robin's reaction to the great revelation, and I had to re-write it several times. Robin even has a little scandal with the King, but they finally reconcile and have a sweet moment when Robin cries in the King's embrace; I wanted to show vulnerability and emotionality in Robin, who is always guarding his emotions so tightly and wears his masks of a cheeky rogue._

_In the next chapter, Vaisey, Guy, and others finally arrive in Acre. Chapter 5 is mainly devoted to the Sheriff, Guy, Marian, and a little to Archer, more to Guy than to anybody else. Vaisey will begin to prepare for regicide attempt, and then something very dramatic and tragic will follow._

**_I really ask you – I even beg you – to leave at least a small review to this chapter because I am really worried about this serious and dramatic chapter_**_. Although the chapters about the regicide attempt have already been written and are currently being edited, I have to say that I do really feel nervous when I share them with you, and this is the reason why I beseech you to share my opinion with me (which I never did before, but which I do really need now). At least, tell me is it good or bad – nothing else; but I really tried to be fair and reasonable._

**_Reviews are always appreciated, including well-grounded criticism._**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, Amaranthe Athénaïs_


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**The shores of the Holy Land**

Taking a deep breath, Robin opened the door of his new bedchamber at the Citadel of Acre, which he shared with Melisende. Utter and complete blackness met his gaze. Since there was no sign of light, it seemed that no one was inside. Groping through the darkness, he strode forward to the bed, as quickly and silently as he could in the smothering blackness. As he sat on the bed, he felt a hand on his arm.

"Don't be afraid, Robin. It's me," Melisende purred.

"Oh," Robin gaped.

"Where were you? I was waiting for you for more than an hour."

"I… was with the King… with… Richard…" Robin stumbled with words, not knowing how to address to the King who was his sovereign, friend, and half-brother.

"Hmm," Melisende fairly purred. "This is why you are so excited?" Like a kitten, she rubbed her cheek against his chest. "At this very minute, I think that I am very jealous to Richard. I am also utterly loyal to him and I would die for him, but I may be jealous if he takes you away from me for so much time."

Her wittiness amused Robin, and he laughed. "How jealous are you to our dear King?"

"Just a little, not very much."

"Really?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "I would do everything for Richard. I would die for him."

Robin tipped her face up toward him; then he kissed her warmly. "And you are a darling! I am the most fortunate man to have you as my wife, for you understand my loyalty to Richard."

Melisende and Robin held their ultimate loyalty to the King and England, which was passionate and unconditional. They both loved Richard and viewed him not as _the great Coeur de Lion_, the great warrior and the powerful King of England, not as a mere symbol of both bravery and cruelty, but as a man, with his strengths and weaknesses, each of which they understood very well.

With a finger that almost trembled, she delicately traced his jaw line features. "I will never make you choose between your duty and myself, Robin. This is not right."

Robin gasped in amazement, thinking that the King had probably told his cousin something about his unfortunate betrothal to Marian; but he said nothing on the matter. "Thank you for that."

Robin bent his head and kissed Melisende. At the feel of her soft lips beneath his, the sensation of her slender body pressing against his, desire turned all the more powerful and intense by the knowledge that she would never make him choose between Richard and herself; now he had no choice at all because he would sacrifice everything for his half-brother.

His kiss deepened, and his hands started undoing the fastening of her nightgown and her fingers undoing his pants. As they removed their clothes, he threw himself upon her and kissed her hungrily, his tongue seeking entrance to the warmth of her lips, and she opened her mouth to give him what he sought. His body felt as if it were on fire, yearning for his wife's touch and for taking her, his loins aching and demanding release from the increasingly voluptuous sensations that racked him.

Robin lifted her and with something between a growl and a groan began to sink slowly within her. They joined together, and he thought of nothing, nothing except the slick heat of her body and the exquisite softness of her flesh as he drove himself deeper and deeper into her. He heard her soft cry of pleasure and could feel the tremors racing through her body. Groaning aloud, he thrust more violently into her welcoming warmth, reveling in the sensations that cascaded through him. When the white mist of fulfillment exploded in his mind and he found pure ecstasy.

It was a long time before Robin could bring himself to slide from Melisende. He drew her into his arms and held her so for a minute. The earth finally stopped spinning and Melisende sighed contentedly, finding herself firmly enclosed in a pair of the strong arms. He was strangely satisfied, but he was also aware of a feeling of possession, of an innate tenderness that he felt for her.

"At least I have you," Robin muttered, his voice hoarse, still drugged by passion.

Melisende raised a quizzical brow. "What do you mean?"

Robin shut his eyes tightly. "My life is becoming very strange. I don't know who I am."

"Are you alright, Robin?" she cried out, her voice concerned.

Robin hugged her tighter. The moon appeared from behind the dark cloud, and his eyes were now accustomed to the darkness, so that he could see her rather well. Something deep and tender sparked the depths of his pale blue eyes.

"Many things happened. My life changed. We are married for only three months, but I can say that now you are my only constant in this life," he murmured. "Everything else changes too fast – too fast to accept it and think that I am not going mad."

"Why are you saying this?" Melisende asked, idly stroking his chest.

"If you want to know, then ask Richard. If he thinks that you can learn the truth, then so be it," Robin, snapped, pulling the silken cover upward with unhidden lust in his eyes.

"Richard?" She was confused.

Robin bent his head down and began kissing her neck. "Yes, Richard."

"What happened?"

"Nothing, nothing," he murmured. "I think there are more pleasant things to do, no?"

Her cheeks flushed. "Yes, there are."

"Beautiful!" he murmured as he buried his face in her hair.

"I didn't know," she said softly.

"What?" He raised his head from the curve of her arm and looked at her, kissing her cheek.

"I didn't know that you are such a wonderful man when you caught my eye on Cyprus."

He ran a strand of her shining hair through his fingers. "Why are you saying that?"

"It is true, Robin. You knew that I liked you in the moonlit garden, didn't you?"

He grinned smugly. "From the first moment I saw you in the moonlight."

"I guess this marriage didn't work out exactly as you probably planned, did it?" she asked him.

"No, definitely, no," he purred.

Melisende ran a caressing finger down his cheek. "Robin, I didn't want to love you. I resisted with all my being, but I was powerless… It is not like it was with Leicester…" she murmured.

He cringed at her words. "Forgive me," he whispered, his eyes moving over her slender form.

"There is nothing to forgive, Robin." She threaded her ﬁngers through his sandy hair. "It is alright if you don't love me."

"It is wrong," Robin murmured quietly as his arms framed her face.

"Wrong?"

"Yes, my dear."

"I know that you planned to marry another woman – Lady Marian," she said tonelessly.

His body tensed, but he didn't pull away from her. "Did Richard tell you something?"

"Richard said nothing and I didn't ask him, but Robert de Beaumont told me everything."

"Well, I expected that Robert would take an initiative and would inform you about my past." He traced her lips with his fingers, feeling the corners of her mouth lift slightly.

Shaking her head slightly, Melisende smiled softly and unerringly laid her palm against his cheek. "Sometimes you remind me of a child."

"You are not the first one who is telling me that." With curiosity, he noticed that his memories about Marian and their past were no longer painful. Did that mean that he was slowly healing from pain and heartache, which Marian's betrayal had inflicted on him?

"And not the last one." She smiled. "Do you really think that Robert can somehow hurt you?"

"No."

"Robert told me the truth about your two betrothals to this lady because he is worried about you. He wishes you to be happy, and for this reason he told me the truth about her betrayal of your love."

"I know, Melisende." He sighed. "I am very grateful to Robert for his care, although I was also going to tell you everything. And I myself will also do it soon."

"As you wish, Robin. I will listen to you whenever you wish."

"Thank you."

"Robin, I swear that I will never betray you."

He smiled. "I believe you." He had dimples in his cheeks when he smiled.

She fluttered her long eyelashes up and down. "Do you love Lady Marian?"

"_A part of my heart will always love Marian_," Robin said with resignation, sighing and looking away. "_But another part of my heart was dead after her marriage to another man._" He reached out his right hand and cupped her chin; he glanced into her eyes. "_And this part of my heart is no longer as gray and frozen. I feel content. I feel that I want to live. And it is so only thanks to you, Melisende_."

She smiled bleakly. "_Robin, I love you, with all my heart_."

"_And I am very fond of you… I think I am falling for you_," he confessed.

"Robin," she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Robin closed his eyes and pressed Melisende closer to himself. She was his wife, and he thought that it was wonderful to know it was true. Melisende was his wife in truth, and nothing in the world could change that; nothing, excluding death. He suddenly felt that his life became much simpler. He said farewell to his old life, to the old world which, bound in its cruel and treacherous framework of Marian's betrayal and his ruined dreams, could offer him nothing but a narrow, limited existence and endless, unbearable pain. He was finally moving on, although he knew that a part of his heart and soul would be forever occupied by his love and devotion to Marian.

"You are amazing, Melisende. I am a lucky man that I am your husband," Robin said, his lips close to her hair. "I need you to know that."

"And I am lucky to have you as my husband, friend, and lover, Robin. I will be grateful for every moment we are granted by God, every day for the rest of my life."

Leaning over her on one elbow, he looked at her, his lashes half-closed and his mouth curved into a smile. "As long as you are so close to me, sweetheart, I don't give a damn what mischief you and I are up to. If we like something, we will do that."

Her eyes sparkled knavishly. "What exactly do you want?"

A sensual curve to his full lower lip, Robin laughed huskily. "Yeah, I wouldn't force you to do any kind of mischief, but I have enough confidence in my own ability to make you welcome… something new."

"I don't mind." The wicked gleam appeared in her violet eyes.

They were both breathing hard, and then he kissed her hungrily, hotly, with great and obvious relish. Giddy with the deep emotions flooding her body, Melisende welcomed his liberties as he caressed her body in the ennoble fashion, shuddering as stronger, more powerful sensations began to wreak havoc within her. Nuzzling her hair and breathing in the scent of lavender and rose water, Robin wished that they could stay like that forever.

Robin lifted her atop of him and penetrated into her body; she gasped in surprise and then laughed merrily. He dissolved all his pain and fury in the violent and passionate lovemaking with his wife, taking blatant possession of her and enjoying her body like he would have enjoyed sweet ambrosia all in one. He didn't think of anything else at those minutes, his world filled only with passion for his wife and desire to forget everything that hurt him in real life.

Robin raised his head and looked at the window, which was not draped by the curtains. The pale light of the early morning clothed the hills around the bay in bluish mist, and the dark clouds were shuffling in the sky. Somewhere far away, on the horizon, the dark sky was tinged with the rosy color of sunrise, but hardly noticeable lightning bolts were flashing silently in the distance.

Despite the shocking revelations about his past and his true origins, he was relieved that he had learnt the truth, even though it was not the truth he wanted to hear. His marital bliss, unexpected and welcome, made the acceptance of the truth easier. Yet, his heart was filled with bad forebodings and fear that something in his life would go wrong. He struggled to free himself of fear and confusion, but with maddening clarity, he felt that the worst would certainly come when they would not expect that.

Robin hoped to have peaceful sleep after his passionate lovemaking with his lovely wife. Instead, gripped by powerful nightmares, Robin tossed and turned on the bed, jerking his head up and down, his lips slightly twitching, his head spinning. Another dreadful nightmare replaced the visions of the battlefield of Acre, and Robin dreamt of the Saracen attack when Guy wounded him from the back. But this time the nightmare of the same attack was more ferocious and somehow special.

In his dream, the pain from the penetration of cold steel in his flesh was so real, so painful, and so sharp that Robin awoke in a cold sweat, his heart thundering in his chest, the hot blood running faster in his veins. He lay still, very still, breathing slowly, and unable to move his limbs, feeling mortal terror running through him so deep that it made him tremble. In today's dream about the Saracen attack, he felt death closer to him than he had ever felt before.

The stillness reigned in the room, breached by his labored breathing, as well as by the quiet twittering of birds in the garden and the distant, faint murmur of the sea. He sat in the bed and stared into the darkness, his heart thundering so wildly that its rhythm was nearly suffocating him.

Robin dragged a deep, painful breath, holding it for an unreasonably long time. He was horrified in the wake of his new nightmare, trying to persuade himself that the dream was only a product of his imagination. In an instant, he could hear his heartbeat, strong and now steady.

Melisende also awoke. She turned her head and eyed Robin. "Robin, what happened?" She reached for him and wrapped her arm around his back.

"I am fine." Robin felt that it was impossible to endure such intensity of emotion for long.

"Did you have a nightmare?" She was stroking his thick sandy-colored hair; she loved his hair so much, loved that it was cut in an impish, roguish style.

"Yes." He inhaled shakily, his body tensed.

"It is over, my love," Melisende said softly.

Robin drew a deep breath and released it shakily. "In my dream, I was wounded in the Saracen attack," he said in a shaking voice. "I often dream of that night." He trembled.

Melisende took his hands gently in hers, and Robin turned to face her. She brought her palm tenderly down his face, over scratchy stubble of his beard.

"You are alive. You will be fine," she assured him, glancing into his eyes.

Robin bit his trembling lip and looked down. After a moment he said, "I am so happy that I am not alone. I need your wisdom and perhaps even your protection… from myself, from the darkness that lives in my heart." He gripped her hands tighter. "Don't leave me."

Melisende's violet eyes burned with emotion. "I will be with you, Robin. I promise."

"You have brought me more comfort than your beautiful face or your gorgeous figure could." He smiled vaguely. "I feel such a deep affection and gratitude towards you."

"By Christ and by any God, Robin of Locksley, I love you with all my heart." Her avowal was whispered with tenderness and awe. "It is forever, Robin Hood, forever.'" And he thought that she meant it.

"I want to love you so much," Robin whispered.

Melisende leaned over him, her full breasts grazing his chest, the tips of her long red-gold hair tickling his skin. "Then love me… until death do us part." She sealed the bargain, her mouth on his.

"Until death do us part," Robin murmured. "I am yours, truly, irrevocably forever, until my death." He ran his hand up her back to gently grasp a thick handful of red-gold hair.

Robin kissed her so completely, so fully, and so fiercely that she could feel their hearts beating in unison. When he released her they stood breathless, their cheeks pressed together.

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, then pulling her close, wrapped his arm around her waist, like a veil between the worlds. He buried his head into her shoulder and felt her tender hand stroking his hair on the nape of his head.

"Your nightmares will stop troubling you soon," Melisende crooned, stroking his head like a newborn's.

"Don't leave me," Robin murmured. He felt all of his worldly burdens slip away with the soothing stroke of her hand and with a long sigh of relief.

"I won't leave you," the musical voice said. "You are not alone."

Robin drew back from their embrace. He gazed into her eyes and smiled, and Melisende smiled back at him. Something told him that they would experience the mystery of doom and death together. Maybe they both were doomed to find peace together.

Melisende wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with the soul stirring passion that, for a moment, took her away from everything but Robin. Her heart was crying out that maybe, just maybe, Robin would finally, truly be hers! If only this was possible, she mused; if only he forgot the woman who broke his heart and caused him so much pain. If only he could give his heart to her and only to her, she would live in this joy for the rest of her life.

§§§

The wind intensified and the storm ravaged, but Guy of Gisborne stood on the deck of the ship carrying the Sheriff, him and his party from Cyprus to Acre. He leaned out over the starboard rail, peering down into the waters below. He stood with his legs spread, his knees flexing against the erratic, unpredictable movements of the ship's deck, and his right elbow hooked around a rope that stretched up like an iron bar into the mass of rigging above his head.

"It is dangerous to stay here, Gisborne," Guy heard the voice behind him.

Guy turned his gaze and looked at Prince John's assassin. "What are you doing here?"

Archer grinned. "If I were in your shoes, I would go to your cabin."

"Why should I?" Guy looked at the black canopy of heaven that seemed to mingle with the raging sea.

"The beautiful Lady Marian is alone," Archer said calmly.

Guy narrowed his eyes at the younger man. "What do you want from my wife?"

"Absolutely nothing. I just think that women are worried in such storms."

"The storm is bad."

"It will be worse in the night," Archer said rhetorically. "The storms in the Mediterranean Sea can be much more violent than even the storm we will see this night. Even in the summer, there can be quite violent storms in these waters. In this case, our ship will be wrecked somewhere and we will die. Another option is that our ship could be driven to the direction different from our route, dependent on the whims and ferocity of the winds."

Gisborne looked curious. "You know so much about the storms in the Mediterranean Sea."

Archer smiled knowingly. "I do know many things about the sea waters in the East. I spent many years in the East, mainly in the Byzantine Empire and Antioche."

"You seem to have many adventures," Guy said, impressed.

Archer grunted deep in his chest. "Once I travelled from Limassol to Constantinople. My ship was severely damaged during a violent autumn storm, and less than a day after that we were attacked and sunk by corsairs. They didn't want to sink us, of course. They wanted our cargo, but the ship went down. I suspect it might have foundered even without their attack, for it was badly holed."

"But you survived." Guy's voice showed surprise. "How many died, then?"

Archer's headshake was barely discernible. "It shames me to admit that I have no idea, because I paid no attention to such things, for I was too absorbed in my own problems to take note what others did. And then, when I needed to know, it was too late. But there were a lot of them." He smiled smugly. "I always lived for myself and for myself only. Anyway, I was one of only five survivors."

"You were lucky." Guy caught himself on the verge of commenting that he hated ships and storms.

"Yes, I was." Archer gave a small smile. "It is not the first time when I am going to the Holy Land."

The man in black leather was bewildered. "Not the first time?"

Archer nodded, then sighed. "But last time I was here because I traveled in the East."

"You are a strange man, assassin. There is something that we don't know about you."

Archer averted his gaze. The bitter truth of Guy's words was like a blade in his heart as soon as their gazes met. He was swept up in the storms raging in Guy's eyes, knowing he would have to pretend and lie into Guy's face again, for he didn't plan to tell Guy the truth about his true origins.

"The memories made me somewhat… nostalgic," Archer replied, grinning, but then his expression turned serious, almost harsh. "I had many adventures and lived in poverty because my father placed me in an orphanage in several days after my birth." He laughed bitterly. "And then suddenly I learnt the truth about my birth." He paused, for an instant. "I was in the Byzantine Empire, in Constantinople, when… one old man told me the truth about my birth. I learnt that I have a grown-up half-brother who is several years older than I am. My brother had everything when I had nothing."

Guy eyed him with interest. "Are you a bastard of a nobleman?"

Archer stiffened. "Yes, I am a bastard of a nobleman and a noblewoman." He let out a cynical laugher. "My half-brother, my father's legitimate son, inherited everything – many estates and large wealth."

"And you want your brother dead?"

"I wanted him dead for a long, long time." Archer sighed, his eyes focused on some distant point. "But I am not so sure now."

"Why?"

Archer's gaze sharpened as looked at Guy. "I have heard many incredible things about him."

"If you want to kill him, then you should just do that," Guy said resolutely.

Archer looked at him with cold disdain. "I am a rogue, a cheat, and a knave. I killed some people in my life if they wanted to take my life or if I defended someone else. I also killed several people when I became a professional assassin, but only four people, and I cannot say that I am pleased with what I did."

Guy scowled. "Oh, no, please. You remind me of Robin Hood."

"Really?" Archer grinned sheepishly.

"I had enough of Hood's talk about non-killing. I refuse to hear it again," Guy snapped angrily.

"No." Archer raised a hand in protest. "Don't place that on me. I am not Robin Hood, and I don't want to be Robin Hood." He gave him a fierce glare. "And yet, taking a human life is not an easy thing."

"Then damn you for becoming an assassin if you cannot kill your enemies in cold blood like this weakling Hood cannot do this." Guy's tone was nowhere near as caustic as the words themselves. "Seriously, why did you want the contract on the capture of Robin Hood if you have such an opinion about the value of human life?"

"I guess I am not as cruel and brutal as you are."

Guy narrowed his eyes to slits. "You risk being killed here and now, assassin."

Archer shrugged when he saw the fierce look on Guy's face. "Then try to do that." He chuckled. "And I will show you my excellent swordplay that so much impressed Lord Walter Sheridan who told me that I am as good with a sword as Robin of Locksley." He pointed at Guy. "And I have heard many legends about Robin Hood's skills with a bow and a sword."

Guy released a deep, deep breath, trying to regain his composure. "Hood is not the best swordsman in the Angevin Empire," he snapped angrily.

"And neither are you, Gisborne," Archer teased. "Sheridan told me that Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, is a prime example of the best swordsman in Christendom, as well as King Richard himself. Sheridan said that Hood is outstanding with a sword, but that not the best."

"I heard the same."

"Oh, it is good that you agreed with me. I guess you are not as arrogant and haughty as Robin Hood?"

"Definitely, not."

"But you always kill more easily than Robin Hood?" Archer smiled impudently.

"Stop teasing me, assassin," Guy growled, barely holding on his temper.

"Oh, Gisborne, you have my warmest sympathies that you are so nervous and so intemperate." Archer laughed, his pale blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "But I don't blame you for being so unbalanced because your master, the Sheriff, is a crazy madman who drives you to hell together with him." He shrugged. "Anyway, it is not my responsibility, and I have no wish to share in your torments."

"Shut up," Guy hissed.

"Aye, indeed. I will shut up." Archer flashed a sideways glance at Guy, grinning at him. "But if I don't speak, your life will be dull and much less bright, Gisborne."

Guy blinked at that, but said nothing more about that because he became acutely aware that Archer was teasing him with purpose – to make him angry and see what he would do. Archer was a strange man, for he wasn't similar to a typical profit-looking assassin, at least not in the contract on the murder of King Richard and Robin Hood. There was something strange in Prince John's assassin and something familiar, for his cheeky grins and his pale blue eyes reminded Guy so much of Robin Hood.

Tenebrous clouds scurried across the inky sky beneath which the sea was erupting in all directions. From time to time, the small ship was enveloped by the non-transparent mist, which was so thick that it was hard to tell whether it belonged to the sky or to the vast expanse of the raging sea. The ship passed the wave of mist, but only to rush headlong into another wall of mist.

Despite blowing wind and cold, Archer and Guy continued staying on the deck. The wind blew harder and harder, and the ship was moving in the middle of a howling storm at sea.

"Gisborne," Archer said, and quirked one side of his mouth in a humorless grin, "I know that you are also travelling to Acre for the second time. Prince John told me that you failed to kill the King after Robin Hood had stopped you from killing the Lionheart."

Guy felt the jab, not only of his carefully worded insult but also of his deliberate reference to the fact that Prince John shared the details of this story with him. "Be very careful with me, Archer."

Archer laughed, inclining his head slightly. "Gisborne, I know that you are in the dire circumstances of your own. Prince John told me why you want to kill Robin Hood. You must have been truly desperate to retake everything you lost when the Gisborne lands were included in the Locksley estates."

Guy gritted his teeth, his face turned purple in black fury. The shadowy array of emotions that swept across his face in the charged silence that followed might have made any other man run away from Guy, but Archer wasn't a coward. Archer lived through far too much of his own pain and met far too many different men, ranging from dangerous pirates to low criminals and to mighty lords and Princes, to fear the men like the Sheriff and Guy and indulge that kind of visible weakness.

Guy got a hold of his emotions quickly. His eyes glittered at the Prince's assassin, cool blue and filled with a stunning blend of anger and pain. "Prince John told you my story, didn't he?"

Archer kept his back stiff, never taking his gaze from Guy's face. "Gisborne, you were at the royal court in London many times. You should know Prince John." He laughed. "The Prince enjoys playing with people's fates, and if he cannot do that at the particular time, he makes a jest of those people and mocks them. It is like a sport for him – to make jest of someone and enjoy it."

"I know," Guy answered darkly.

Archer looked at Guy, attentively. "Why do you endure so much humiliation from the Sheriff? I would have killed him a long time ago if I had been in your shoes."

Guy scowled. "It is not your deal."

"Don't be offended, Gisborne. I asked out of mere curiosity," Archer shot back. "Lord Vaisey must have spent considerable energy cultivating position of favor with Prince John. And it is well known at the court that not many courtiers like Vaisey. His fate is dependent only on the Prince's favor."

Guy's fists clenched. "Leave me alone."

Archer made a mocking bow. "I am leaving, Gisborne," he said, laughing merrily. "Don't worry. This storm will be worse, but it won't kill us. There could be much more violent storms than this one."

Archer left the deck, but his words about Vaisey echoed mockingly through Guy's heart, underscoring the heart-wrenching truth that Vaisey's future depended exclusively on Prince John's favor and good graces. If King Richard survived, he would execute Vaisey and the Black Knights, and Guy would die together with his master. And no matter how much it hurt, Guy knew that it was the absolute truth.

Guy looked into the dark expanse of the stormy sea. Guy didn't know whether he wanted to go to Acre. He feared the events in Acre. For some reason, Guy feared to see Robin face-to-face. He feared the outcome of the new regicide attempt. But the trip continued, and Acre was somewhere ahead.

After Archer had left, Guy stood on the right deck, looking into the waves of the raging sea, but could see almost nothing due to the mist. He was shocked that they had sailed in such a violent storm, in spite of the Captain's insistence to wait in Limassol; Vaisey acted like the madman in his desire to kill King Richard, fulfilling Prince John's most cherished dream, and reap the fruits of their victory.

Through the waves crashing over the side, Guy caught a glimpse of the Captain and the sailors, clinging to the wheel and the decks, their backs bent against the raging wind. Someone shouted to him that he should have gone to the cabin and wait there. He looked down at himself and saw that he was soaked to the skin but he was so locked in his thoughts that he didn't care to notice before. Suddenly feeling cold and not wishing to risk being swept overboard, he made up his mind to go to the cabin.

Instead of going to himself, Guy decided to call on Isabella at first. He was slowly making his way through the damp, dark corridor, cursing the small vessel and the storm. As the ship bolted by the wave of the strong wind, Guy stumbled into the wooden wall and made a step forward, then opened the door and came into the small cabin where Isabella was held.

He heard two people talking, but they stopped abruptly and they stared at him. He saw Isabella on the floor, on the old straw mattress, not even on the bed, her head leaning on a blanket-covered saddle; Archer sat on the floor next to her and talked to her, soothing her fears born by the storm.

Guy's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. "You are here! What are you doing here?"

Archer turned to face him. "Lady Isabella is frightened because of the storm."

"She doesn't need your help! Get out of here!" Guy ordered roughly.

Archer grinned impudently. "And why should I?"

"Get out. Now," Guy said, almost hissing each word. "Leave me with my sister."

"Sir Guy, you may command your men, but I don't belong to you," Archer said, almost rudely. "I have no allegiance to anyone or anyplace, and certainly not to you or Vaisey."

Guy scoffed. "So you are your own man?"

"I am only interested in self-preservation and making my living on the margins. As Prince John hired me for the expedition to the Holy Land, I obey the Prince," Archer said brusquely, his head high.

"Leave. Right now," Guy hissed at last through clenched teeth.

As his gaze fell on Archer's scimitar and another short curved sword, both weapons drawn in two golden scabbards on his waist, Guy felt the urge to cross swords with the assassin. Vaisey said that Archer was a highly-skilled swordsman and an expert in exotic arms and dangerous developments after many years spent in the East. Guy himself was an outstanding swordsman and knew his own strengths. He wondered whether he could have beaten Archer in a fair combat.

"Or what?" Archer asked, grinning at him sheepishly.

Guy shuddered. An unfamiliar lump came into his throat, a lump which may have been to do with fear of recognition. "Or I will kill you right now," he threatened.

"Don't forget that I am Prince John's man on this mission," Archer retorted arrogantly, getting to his feet; the he walked to the door.

Isabella saluted his brother with a sardonic smile. "What do you want?"

Guy looked down at his sister. "How are you?"

"What is it? Why do you care?" she asked quickly, alarmed by his mysterious behavior.

"I came to ask what you need."

"I need nothing from you," Isabella snapped. "The months were only a little better than the years I spent with my husband, though I am not beaten now, only chained and gagged."

"If you need nothing, then I bid you good night," he said, intending to leave.

"You owe me one thing."

Her sharp voice stopped him. He turned to face her. "What?"

Isabella stared at him, her blue eyes darkened briefly. "Why don't you make Vaisey release me? Why do you allow him to humiliate me, your sister? It that because I failed you?"

"Shut up, Isabella."

She was going to be insistent; she needed an answer to the question that tormented her since the day of her marriage. "Why did you give me to Squire Thornton? Did I fail you in the childhood, too?" As he started moving towards the door, she sprang forward and moved as far as her chains let her go, spurred on by burning hatred for Guy, which crystallized all her loathing and disgust. "Why won't you answer me? Don't you owe me that at least?"

Her sudden gesture stopped him, and he half turned to her. "I owe you nothing. I did what was best."

"You did nothing but condemn me to hell and I demand to know why," she said stiffly.

"You are a foolish girl and you don't understand the world."

"_No, Guy. I understand many things perfectly well. I just want to hear it from you_," Isabella said in a demanding tone. "_Why did you give me to Squire Thornton? Why did you do that?_"

Gisborne didn't dare look at her. "_Thornton offered a fair price for you; that's why I did that_."

There was a moment's shocked silence. The siblings looked at one another, Isabella with her eyes wide in horror and shock and Guy with a cold gaze that was not without hardness.

"No, no, no," Isabella gasped breathlessly.

"So do you still think that you needed my protection when you ran away from your husband?" Guy's voice sounded far away, and he forced the words to come out.

A tear fell from her eye. "Just leave," she whispered.

At that moment, Archer appeared at the doorway. "Are you alright, Lady Isabella?"

There was a sudden, and all eyes riveted on Isabella's worn features. She smiled painfully. "Haven't you guessed yet?" she inquired wearily. "Do I look like I am alright?"

Archer shook his head, staring at her intently. "No, you don't, my lady."

"Get out. You are annoying me," Guy said from between gritted teeth.

"Will you try to kill me if I stay? Like Vaisey killed Guy de Lusignan?" Archer grimaced disgustedly.

Isabella gasped in horror, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at Guy. "Really? The Sheriff killed de Lusignan? The King of Cyprus? "

"Oh, my God, yes!" A limpid glance of Archer's pale blue eyes met Isabella's. "Actually, Vaisey killed him in the dirty tavern, among many people. De Lusignan was disguised as he came on the meeting, so it was the murder of the disguised King."

"You and Vaisey are murderers, Guy!" Isabella returned hotly. "You are men and you think that you can kill and humiliate! If only I had been born a man, I would have been able to do what I want and be responsible for my own life! And then I wouldn't have been sold by my own brother to the man who raped me on my wedding night and beaten by him throughout so many years!"

Guy cursed, his eyes sparkled warningly. "Stop, Isabella. Better stop," he said, surprisingly gently.

"Did you really sell her to her husband?" Archer asked icily, an angry flush staining his young cheeks.

A fiery expression in his eyes, Guy nodded; he was angry and dismayed that Archer had overheard them. "I gave her a chance to have a better life. She failed to use it."

"Oh, I am sure you wanted all the best for me," Isabella replied dryly, smiling sarcastically.

Archer frowned. The conflicting emotions raged through him. Guy wished to kill Robin Hood and hated him, but he also was no better than the Sheriff, Archer decided. He hated Guy for what he did to Isabella, their sister. The revelation about the dark secret, which the Gisborne siblings had kept beside themselves and which alienated them, shocked Archer.

Appalled with Guy's action and unaccountably drawn to Isabella, Archer struggled with himself not to draw his sword and punish Guy right now, for Isabella's pain. "I would love to cross the swords with you now, but I won't do that. Not before Lady Isabella."

Archer bowed majestically, his outward bearing as cold and unbending as usual. Archer's orbs locked with Guy's, and the man in the black leather shuddered; he suddenly thought that he was looking into Robin Hood's eyes, the eyes of the same rare color – the pale blue eyes, so light, nearly translucent.

"Isabella, but I truly wanted to give you a better life," Guy said truthfully.

Isabella sent him a deeply scornful glance. "I don't believe you. You never wrote to me to ask how I felt. You left even before you met me after my wedding night. You didn't see that on the morning after my wedding night I was weeping; my eyes were swollen and red-trimmed, and there were many bruises on my face. You proved yourself totally without honor and walked away from the situation."

Guy sighed, a scowl marring his features. "Believe me or not, I don't care."

Guy felt his heart twist. She said the truth because he noticed that something was wrong, but he was afraid to ask. He needed Squire Thornton's money so much at that time because he had to pay his for his knighthood training; the Sheriff paid him a small fee for the services as the squire, which was not enough to live on that. But it was true that he had never wanted to hurt his sister deliberately.

Guy went to the door of the cabin and paused, giving Isabella one last ambiguous look. He kicked open the door and with his shoulder slammed it shut behind him. He hardly reached his cabin before someone's brisk step was heard in the corridor, and then a shadow appeared on the wall. Guy recognized Archer's slender figure.

Guy looked down at the younger man, who also was shorter, his brow furrowing. "What do you want?"

"What are you going to do with Lady Isabella?" Archer questioned directly, his gaze betraying his naked concern about her, without any mischief and arrogance.

"What do you need from my sister?"

Archer ignored his question. "Are you going to let Vaisey kill her?"

"She will not die," Guy promised, nearly pleasantly.

"And who will save her?"

Guy averted his eyes. "I just said that she would not die."

"Ah, you are a hero and shall save her," Archer taunted sarcastically, but also in bitter disappointment.

Guy, pushing forward and pausing beside him, looked at him sharply. In the anxiety of the moment his hard, light eyes were less carefully veiled than usual. "Why is that business of yours? You fancy her?"

"It is not my business, but yours, as her brother. She doesn't deserve to be treated so poorly."

"Leave my sister! She is a married lady! Don't you dare try to seduce her!"

With a shrug of his shoulders, Guy turned away and strode swiftly in the direction of his cabin, unaware of Archer still staring at him with his eyes filled with conflicting emotions, his heart in his throat.

Archer returned to Isabella and found her cuddled on the mattress, silently weeping and cursing Guy. Archer sat down on the floor, near Isabella, and let her cry for a little without speaking, only petting her head like a child and stroking her tumbled hair with a gentle hand.

As her sobs subsided, Archer put his hand under her chin and tilted up her tear-stained face. "He will not hurt you more. I will not let him hurt you."

"Thank you," Isabella murmured, salty tears oozing in her eyes.

Isabella gave Archer a little sad smile, not wishing to be alone and listening to the immensity of nature all around. Archer smiled back at her, thinking that he would do everything to protect her from Vaisey and even Guy, if it was necessary. All those thoughts flashed through Archer's mind in that one moment while his eyes looked into hers, but the only thing Archer didn't know was that she didn't need to be saved from Guy, but Guy needed to be saved from her.

§§§

Guy of Gisborne descended to the small cabin, his own cabin he shared with Marian. Carefully, he lit one candle in the far corner of the cabin, which left the other parts in shadow. He swung around and his eyes fixed on the female figure on the bed.

Marian lay on the bed, her face down, quiet and motionless, as though she hadn't heard that Guy came. Guy walked back to the bed. He sat on the edge and reached for her to unshackle her. At the clang of metallic chains, she raised her head and stared at him, astonished that he showed her such respect. She contemplated Guy, her eyes challenging him and accusing him of all his sins and wrongdoings he had committed in his life on the path to power.

Guy noticed that she was pale as a ghost as blood drained from her face. She had lost much weight since they had left England; he thought that she had to put on an ounce of weight. For an instant, she reminded him of a frail, bird-like creature because of her paleness and slimness. The journey had a hard toll on her, as well as her emotional unrest.

Using her newly acquired freedom, Marian sat propped up on her pillows, and regarded Guy with a cynical smile. The silence from her was long and ominous, and he almost wished he had stayed on the deck. With undiminished enthusiasm, she continued looking at Guy for several minutes, smiling with the same smile. Then she turned away and settled on the bed, closing her eyes.

"Marian, you stay calm. This is a strong storm," Guy said gently, breaking a silence.

Marian looked up at him dumbly, not really seeing him at all. "Why did we sail in storm?"

"The Sheriff wants to be in Acre as soon as possible," Guy answered after a short pause. "We are sailing very quickly. Yesterday, we left the shores of Cyprus, and soon we will see the shores of Acre."

She frowned at him. "To kill the King?"

"Yes."

"Will you do that?"

Guy looked at Marian for a long, long time, and she met his gaze unflinchingly. "I will kill the King."

"You are a fool, Guy!" Marian declared fiercely. "We have talked many times that Vaisey will give you no power. And you… will regret if you kill the King. I don't believe that you want to kill him."

"If King Richard returns to England, we – you and I – will have nothing – no lands, no status, no power, and no future. Or perhaps you would have the Knighton Hall, but I will be dead."

"I don't need power! I don't need lands!"

"Marian, we deserve to have a comfortable life. And I wouldn't be deprived of what is justly mine!"

"Happiness is not about power and wealth," she pointed out.

"I know," he said softly. "But even if I don't want to kill the King, I must him kill him. Otherwise Vaisey will kill you and Isabella."

"You don't have to kill the King. There is another way out."

The storm persisted, the wind raged. The boat was dancing like a cork in the boiling waters. It seemed to Marian that it was disintegrating seemed to her that the world was disintegrating around her.

"Marian, why did you have to put me in this position? Why did you try to kill the Sheriff? Did you even once understand what I was feeling... or thinking?"

Marian grimaced in disgust. "The Sheriff is mad. I had to prevent him from killing the King."

Guy shook his head in disagreement. "No, he is single-minded. He doesn't allow distractions."

"To divert him from his course of killing innocent people and the King," she finished for him. She raised her chin, her sapphire eyes blazing into his, conveying in that one look all her despair she felt at that moment. "Distractions? Like a little humanity?"

Guy sighed heavily, turning away from her. "Humanity is a weakness."

Marian grabbed his arm, making him to face her. "You don't believe that, Guy. You don't."

"I… I…" He stumbled with words.

"Guy, kill the Sheriff when we arrive in Acre."

Guy raised his head, their eyes met. "There is nothing I can do."

"No, you can." Her voice resonated like the sound of a bell. "Turn against Vaisey."

"And even if I agree, how can I do it?" he asked, baffled.

"We need someone in King Richard's entourage who can put a word for you."

"Hood! Hood!" Guy shouted frenziedly, his face contorted in fury. "Again this brat! This thief! Don't tell me that I should crawl on my knees to Hood and beg! I will never ever do that."

Marian bit her lips and foamed with anger. It was going to be more difficult that she had planned. "Alright, alright. Do you know someone else close to King Richard?"

"We don't need it."

"Sir Roger de Tosny," she said curtly as she remembered the name of the man whom Guy had served as a squire in Normandy before Vaisey trapped him in the debt prison and hired him. "You can contact Sir Roger. You can find him in the King's camp in Acre and warn him about the regicide."

Guy shook his head in disagreement. "I cannot."

"You said that Roger de Tosny is in Richard's good graces. He will help us. He will–"

"No, stop it!"

Marian stared at Guy, her eyes pleading him. "Guy, you once told me that you were relieved that you hadn't killed the King when you had been standing over his sleeping form."

"I was… oddly relieved. I don't know why I felt so."

"You don't want to kill the King, Guy!"

Guy looked at Marian, attentively and intensively. The thought of Robin Hood came into his mind quite naturally. What scared Guy most of all was his own emotional conflict, the battle of the good and the bad in his heart. _It may have been the wild storm and their proximity to Acre, which had torn away the soft veil of mist that covered Hood's image in his memory, but Guy somehow felt that he didn't want to kill Robin Hood and King Richard__, for unexplainable reasons_. The image of Robin Hood as the small child flickered in his mind, and his hatred was not as strong as before.

The old priest in church located in the suburbs of Nottingham told Guy strange things, and since then Guy couldn't forget them. The priest said that if he had killed King Richard and Robin Hood, he would have lost all chances for redemption. He didn't want to believe that Roger of Gisborne had committed something bad and had somehow wronged Malcolm of Locksley and Robin of Locksley. The priest's words were nothing more than sheer insanity, the product of the old man's imagination, or perhaps he just wanted to spite Guy. It was so much easier to forget what the priest had told him, but for whatever reason those words haunted him since the day he had visited that old church.

"_Do you want to kill King Richard?" _Marian repeated her question, raising her voice slightly.

"_I don't want to kill the King,_" Guy confessed helplessly. "_But I have to._"

Marian heard the sincerity in Guy's words, but sadly she assumed that Guy would probably not turn against the Sheriff, whom he was so blindly and obsessively loyal to. But she had to try again.

She cast a condemning glance at him. "Just kill the Sheriff and that's all."

"Hush! Hush!" Guy spoke hastily, casting an anxious glance around him. "Vaisey hears everything and can do everything to us, to you and me. There is also Prince John's personal assassin."

She scoffed, neglecting his warning. "I don't care. I cannot let you kill the King and Robin."

As Marian spoke about Robin, Guy looked at her with interest. While his thoughts were occupied on the means of protecting Marian and Isabella from the Sheriff and of having power beyond measure, he also thought of the news about Robin's marriage, which Guy de Lusignan had shared with them. He wanted to see Marian's reaction to the news, and he fully expected it to be dramatic.

"I know something interesting about Robin Hood," Guy announced, his eyes focused on Marian's face.

Marian felt her heart skip a beat. "What news?"

Their eyes met, and Guy was suddenly conscious of a delicious weakness mingled with a queer exhilaration which co-existed in her heart at the thought of Robin. He knew that she found herself thinking of Robin more often as they were approaching the shores of the Holy Land.

"Hood married the King's cousin in Acre more than two months ago," Guy said with a twisted smile.

She swallowed hard. Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Hood married the King's cousin," he repeated.

She shook her head, in disbelief. "No, it is impossible."

"This is true. Prince John's spy on Cyprus told us," he said.

She questioned whether he was telling her the truth, but she knew he was. "Well, I don't know what to say," she returned lifelessly, going cold with shock, too stunned for tears.

"If it makes your life easier, we were told that it was a purely political marriage," Guy added, not knowing why he was talking about Hood's marriage in that context, trying to smooth Marian's pain and shock. "Hood has done that out of loyalty to King Richard. I think he was ordered to marry."

Marian sank heavily back on the pillows and put her hand to her mouth, choking back tears. Her face was pale; tears stood in her eyes. "It is my entire fault! Only my fault!" she gasped repeatedly.

Guy met her eyes and then looked away from her obstinately. "It is not your fault, Marian. He married for political reasons, to ensure that certain Poitevin lords would be loyal to King Richard."

She looked down at hands, feeling disgust for herself. "You don't understand, Guy," she whispered, meaning that her rejection had pushed Robin into an unhappy loveless marriage for political reasons.

Through a mist of tears she was no longer able to restrain, Marian saw Guy's painful expression. A spasm of rage shook her at the thought of Vaisey and Guy still planning to kill the King. But there was also pain that Robin had married another woman, not her, his Marian. But what could she expect after her rejection? She made her choices and she had no right to blame Robin, for he was a free man, loyal to the King of England and his country.

"What should I understand?" he inquired, at loss.

"Nothing."

"Do you love Robin Hood?" He barely managed to ask the question that bothered him for so long.

She shut her eyes. "It doesn't matter."

Marian was extremely confused. She was greatly attracted to Guy, and she often thought that she loved him, not Robin. But then Robin's image came to her mind, over and over again, and she still felt the fierce desire to see him and protect him from the Sheriff. Her affection for Robin didn't fade away as soon as her former betrothed was no longer with her. Guy drew her as a magnet would draw iron, but there was also Robin. She still was trapped in the love triangle between such different men.

"Then your reaction is not understandable," Guy said softly, watching as she was struggling with tears.

"I miss him," Marian confessed, unable to meet his gaze.

Marian felt that she could no longer restrain her tears. Huge sobs escaped her, and her enormous blue eyes glittered as the tears flowed freely. She cried so hard that Guy's heart clenched in pain, and he scooped her into his arms, holding her gently, rocking her to and fro as she wept. She clung to him, burying her face in his chest until gradually her sobs subsided. He stroked her hair and murmured to her while her diminishing shudders shook them both. Finally, he released her and tenderly brushed away her tears that ran down her pale cheeks.

When he attempted to leave, she grasped his hand. "Don't leave me," she pleaded with upturned eyes.

"I will stay, my love," Guy replied, seating himself on the edge of the bed.

Marian was too tired from anxiety to be alone. She heard his words, vaguely, and she wondered if he had really called her his love or if she was dreaming. She had never felt so lonely before.

"You will just sit and stare at me?" she said.

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists. "And what do you want?"

"I cannot be alone. Not tonight," she whispered.

Guy flung her away from him so forcefully that she fell on the bed. She looked up at him, in shock, tears shimmering in her eyes, her face as white as death with sudden apprehension. "You were alone since we left Nottingham. Today, you don't want to be alone after I told you about Hood's marriage."

"You would strike me now as you did when you learnt that I was the Nightwatchman?"

He sat beside her and pulled her into his arms. "No," he muttered, his tone agonized as he started covering her face with kisses.

They kissed for an endless time, forgetting about the raging storm outside or the extreme oddity of their sudden, overpowering attraction to each other.

Guy embraced her appreciatively. Her hair hung in strands, like a curtain of dark knight enveloping her body, as if caressing it. Marian with his strong arms and she lay back on the bed, holding on to him tightly. They stripped one another from their clothes, quickly and violently, and soon a heap of their clothes lay on the floor. She stood completely naked except for very few garments, and his hands traveled to her waist, and he stepped back, letting his eyes linger at her body.

Marian responded to his hot kisses, her tongue snaking into his mouth, entwining with his, searching and exploring. There were no questions to hold her back, not after she had learnt that Robin had married. There was only her loneliness and helplessness, which pushed her to cling to Guy, thinking that his arms could give her shelter, whatever was happening in the world beyond them could wait.

Guy understood that it was probably not pure, absolute love which pushed Marian to his arms tonight. She never showed that she wanted him after he had allowed the Sheriff to treat her and Isabella like a prisoner and forced her to travel to the Holy Land. On the contrary, she always cast disappointed glances at him, accusing him of callousness and cruelty, and his heart nearly collapsed in his chest in pain from her rejection. But today she needed him for comfort as she learnt about Hood's matrimony.

He didn't care why she wanted him. He suffered from the strongest emotional conflict, demons were tearing his heart apart, and he wanted her to take away a part of his pain. For a moment, hope of a worthier future for him and Marian which was beginning to take shape in his mind, but, oddly, Guy found his love for her and his need to win her and make her his not as sharp as he had felt before. But he wanted to possess her at that instance and that she wanted him.

He ran his hands through her hair, murmuring barely understandable endearments in French, his mother's language, into her ear. He broke the kiss and looked at her. "I wonder whom you love…"

"It doesn't matter," she said huskily.

"Do you want me, Marian?"

She kissed his collarbone. "I do," she breathed.

Unconsciously seeking fulfillment, they joined together as he entered her, both gasping aloud with the exquisite sensation. Her hands fluttered down his back as she moved restlessly beneath him and held his head against her, sinking her fingers into the wealth of dark silken hair. Waves of heated rapture washed over them, burning them inside, like a wind-fed fire, consuming them in its hungry flames.

Guy held her tightly to his chest while the receding aftershocks left them limp and content in each other's arms. "Marian?" he asked softly.

"Yes?" Marian looked at him as the single torch in the cabin threw a narrow shaft of light on the bed.

"Are you alright?"

"More or less."

She leaned down and her lips traced the path down his throat and to his bare chest. She kissed the line of the old scar on his shoulder and then traced it with her finger. "What did you get this scar?"

"Vaisey," he spat.

She raised her head to look at him, her brows arching. "When did he do that to you?"

His face was flushed, his eyes closed, his dark lashes lay fanned on his cheeks. "Remember what I told you about my life in Normandy. Vaisey blackmailed me and forced me to kill King Richard's knight in the forest, for the first time in my life. Then Vaisey asked me to behead his dead body." He trailed off.

She sighed heavily. "This monster threatened to kill you if I didn't do that."

"Yes." Guy leaned over her, and the wistful look on his face suggested that his mind drifted off to the past. "So much pain," he murmured, shutting his eyes. "There was so much hurt and loneliness, so many betrayals and so many hardships. I wish I could forget everything."

"You have to forget," she whispered. "But you should not kill to forget."

Guy shuddered in her arms, his body tensing. "I cannot. And I have to kill."

"Not the King and not Robin."

"You do love him," he asserted, then swallowed heavily.

Marian pulled away from him. "No, this is different," she said irritably. "How you enjoy hurting people! Oh, I hate you for that!"

"I should hate you, too," Guy whispered mostly to himself. "For sleeping with Hood before me, for thinking of him when you are with me."

Marian turned her head away, regretfully and shamefully. "I thought you didn't know."

"I am not a fool," he reflected softly. "I should hate you, but I cannot."

She put her arms around his neck, looking into his eyes. "Then don't kill the King and Robin. If you cannot do that for yourself to be free from your demons, then don't commit regicide for me."

Guy pulled away and abruptly sat up on the bed. "We have already talked about that."

Marian stared at him, her eyes desperate. "I thought you are a decent man! Don't do this!"

His arms wrapped her about her waist, and he glanced into her eyes. "This is because of Hood."

"I don't want you to commit an act of treason."

"I cannot stop. Not now. It is too late. There is no way back. Vaisey blackmails me, and I cannot let him kill you and Isabella," Guy contradicted. "And Hood must pay for what he did to me in childhood."

Marian jerked away violently, pushing frantically against his chest. "Oh, don't tell me that you hate Robin!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "You cannot kill King Richard and Robin! I will do something! I won't let you kill them!"

Gripped by the strangest sensation of the powerful passion and monstrous pain he had ever known in his life, Guy regarded her distressed features. There was an expression of inhumane agony in the depths of his steel blue eyes that made Marian's heart clench painfully. He growled something low in his throat, and he climbed out of the bed. He stared down at her, his eyes narrowing at her, and he cursed in French. He picked up his leather pants from the floor and hastily put them on; then he grabbed his jacket and threw it over his shoulders.

Guy shook his dark head. "_Marian, you don't know what you want and whom you want_," he got out between gritted teeth, his eyes glittering dangerously. "_You can't face the fact that you need me and need Hood, so you unconsciously punish me for your own secret desires and confusion. You are an extraordinary woman, beautiful, strong and fearsome, but also a child in a woman's body. Grow up_."

Marian took a sharp breathe, but neither waiting for nor expecting an answer, Guy looked away from her. She opened her mouth to speak, angry words boiling up in her throat, but she didn't do that. She couldn't lie to him about the fact that she didn't miss Robin. He finished dressing and headed to the door. He left the cabin, slamming the door behind him.

"Guy! Guy! Guy!" Marian croaked out, tears springing to her eyes at the sight of his tall, broad-shouldered form disappearing behind the door.

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting against the tears. The ache in her heart was more powerful than any pain she had ever felt before in her life. She loved Robin of Locksley! Love for Robin had always been a part of her, but she rejected him because he loved the King and his country so much. And she also loved Guy of Gisborne! These facts were irrefutable, and the revelation explained so many things she did, especially the ease with which she had allowed herself to be seduced by both men, by the light charm of Robin and the dark charm of Guy.

The knowledge was that she had probably loved both Robin and Guy was bitter and fraught with anguish. It was frightening to think that she had taken one look at his chiseled features, stared only once into those steel blue eyes, and wished to be with Guy. But it was even more frightening that she had taken just one look into the eyes of pale blue color, even if she imagined that, and was instantly drawn to another man – Robin, instantly aware of him in a way she wished him by her side.

Woefully, Marian admitted that she found it far easier to think about the salvation of the King and England at that very instant than to dwell on her personal, complicated situation. _She didn't find the solution how to save the King during the endless days of the journey, hoping that Guy would change his mind and go against the Sheriff, but it didn't happen, which meant that she would have to do everything to save the King herself, even if she had to sacrifice her own life to let King Richard live. She just hoped that it was not too late and that she wouldn't fail_.

Meanwhile, Guy stood near the door of the cabin; he heard her sobs. But now he was thinking more of the upcoming new regicide attempt than about his troubles with Marian. Guy didn't want to kill King Richard, but he had to do that because otherwise Marian and Isabella would die at Vaisey's hand. He was amused with his own sensations and doubts, despite all his apprehension, to realize that he was, beyond belief, scared. His gut feeling was that the Sheriff would fail to kill the King once again, but he felt that someone would die; he feared their trip to Acre.

He stood erect, holding his head high, and turned slowly in a complete circle, gazing at the door to Marian's cabin, and he heard her sobs. He cannot go to her. He had to spend some time alone. He had to think. The haunting fear of death and doom gripped his heart; dread slashed through his core. He strode forward and opened another door, disappearing in the darkness of another small cabin.

§§§

As daylight faded into dusk and the sinking sun colored the blue sky into a pale tint of orange above the sparkling waters of the sea, the Sheriff's ship came ashore in the harbor of Acre after overcoming the turbulence of the violent storm. It was a miracle that they managed to come alive out of a violent storm, and Vaisey laughed, saying that it was a good omen for their mission and that they would finally kill the King of England. The journey to Acre was over.

They disembarked the ship, and the Sheriff ordered Gisborne, Archer, and five of his French mercenaries to take the captives ashore; of course, the ladies were shackled and gagged, as usual. Neither Marian, nor Isabella tried to resist, everyone almost dead after the journey from Cyprus to Acre. Marian didn't talk to Guy, deliberately ignoring him and still thinking how to stop Guy from killing the King; Isabella was silent, too, watching Guy and Marian from the corner of her eye.

They rode on the camels from the harbor to the suburbs of Acre, to the house owned by the Sheriff's Muslim allies. The house with plain facade covered in blue, green, and white-glazed Saracen tiles in patterns was large and luxurious, with a huge garden and fountains nested inside the inner courtyard. They passed through the courtyard to the entrance of the house. The garden was heavy with the scent of spices, and the only sounds were the splashing of fountains and distant sweetness of Arabic music. The gray dusk heightened the romantic environment of the surroundings.

Looking around in awe, Marian and Isabella were swiftly carried to one of the rooms on the first floor and put on the bed; each of them was chained to the wall by an ankle. Guy and Archer uttered no word and closed the door, trailing behind the Sheriff and heading to the living room. The Sheriff quickly had a dinner, enjoying fresh bacon, smoked lamb, and white bread. Then the Sheriff said that he had some deals in Acre and was gone, ordering Gisborne and Archer to wait for him in the house.

Vaisey returned in two hours, obviously in good mood. Humming something under his breath, he sat down on the yellow sofa and propped himself onto the silk pillows, his expression smug and happy. "Oh, this is so sweet to be in Acre. I told you that we would make it to Acre in four days and we did that," he said in singsong tones. "It is very hot here, but I like this place very much."

"The heat is unbearable," Archer agreed.

The Sheriff chuckled, his eyes darting between Guy and Archer. "The heat is not important, boys. We are so close to power! We will kill the King and go home. Soon Prince John will become the King."

"My lord, my wife and sister…" Guy began but trailed off.

The Sheriff laughed halfheartedly. "Gizzy, speak and quickly if you want and while I permit that."

In the dim light, Guy held Vaisey's gaze, his eyes cold and yet at the same time flaming with the very desire to rebel against the Sheriff, but he couldn't. "I want them safe."

"Gisborne, take a deep breath and enjoy the last moments before our triumph. Don't worry! Your lepers will be fine. They needed to be taught a lesson of obedience and sweetness, and the last months served this purpose well," the Sheriff assured his henchman. "Be loyal to me, Gizzy, and you will win."

"I am loyal to you, my lord," Guy said.

"Will you release them?" Archer cast a suspicious glance at the Sheriff.

The Sheriff looked at Archer with a necked eye. "Archy, I see that you truly fancy Lady Isabella. Do you love her more than Gizzy loves his leper wife? Oh, oh, oh! This is dangerous, Archy! Lepers are making men weak and soft, which happened to my dear pupil, my Gizzy. Be careful with lepers."

"Spare me your lectures about lepers, my lord Sheriff," Archer growled. "You should better learn more about women before you give us recommendations how to deal with any lady."

Vaisey smiled nastily, but inside he was seething with anger; he knew what to do with Archer. "Archy, you are an ill-mannered man. Didn't your parents teach you how to treat elder people?"

"I don't have parents. I have been an orphan since my birth," Archer barked, remembering Malcolm of Locksley and wondering whether Robin had any idea about his father's survival in the fire.

Vaisey outstretched his arms in a gesture of grief. "How sad! Poor boy! Alone in the world!"

Someone knocked at the door, and Gisborne unsheathed his sword. The Sheriff outstretched his ringed hand ahead, pointing at Gisborne to open the door.

Opening the door into the living room, the Saracen came inside, his gaze wandering across the room, where they sought Sheriff Vaisey or the man in black leather, as he referred to Guy since they had met in Acre more than two years ago and together organized the raid on the King's camp.

As Guy saw him, he sheathed his sword and the man smiled at him. The Saracen showed the Sheriff his ring with the Sheriff's insigne, and Vaisey laughed.

"Good evening," Nasir said in English.

"Good evening. Are you Nasir?" Vaisey asked.

Nasir nodded. "Yes, I am. And you are Sheriff Vaisey?"

The Sheriff showed his ring. "Yes, I am."

Nasir shifted his gaze from Gisborne to Archer. "I know Sir Guy of Gisborne, but I don't know this man and several other men who ransacked me outside the house."

The Sheriff chuckled. "These men are with us." He smiled. "Nasir, my dear boy. Gisborne told me wonderful things about you!" He rose to his feet and walked to the Saracen. He extended his arm, inviting the man to go and seat on the sofa.

There was one more knock at the door, and Gisborne opened it, letting another Saracen, taller and older than Nasir, to come inside the room. Karim was also one of the Sheriff's accomplices in Acre.

"I am Karim, Nasir's right-hand man," Karim introduced himself.

"Very good. Oh, very good." The Sheriff circled behind Nasir, looking at Karim. "I am pleased to meet all my allies and friends in these distant and hostile lands."

"What is our plan?" Nasir questioned.

"It depends on the circumstances. Do you have news?" Vaisey said briskly.

"King Richard has already signed the peace treaty with Saladin," Nasir informed.

Guy and Archer looked at the Sheriff, waiting what he would say. They understood the seriousness of the situation, for if the peace with Saladin had been made, they failed at least one part of their plan as Prince John wished to kill his brother before the achievement of peace with Saladin.

Vaisey let out a groan of frustration. "When?"

"Five days ago," Nasir replied. "Are you still planning to kill King Richard?"

The Sheriff gave a curt nod. "Of course, we will kill the King."

"Now we will not be able to cast the blame on Saladin's generals," Nasir pointed out.

Vaisey looked at Nasir, his gaze sly. "It doesn't matter."

"What do you mean?" Nasir looked confused.

"Be patient, my boy, be patient. Patience is goodness, which pays off in the end," the Sheriff said cheerfully, his mind plotting a new twist in his regicide plan. "When is the King leaving Acre?"

"Our spy in the King's camp informed us today that Melek-Ric and his entourage will depart from Acre in two days," Karim responded.

"What are you going to do, my lord? They will be gone soon and we can do nothing with that." Guy wasn't frustrated with the news about peace but rather alarmed with the Sheriff's behavior.

"Gizzy, I once told you that I always have a plan," Vaisey said, scowling at his henchman. "The peace may always be ruined. Or the conditions of the peace treaty may be changed."

Nasir smiled wryly. "I see where you are going."

"You, Nasir, are going to visit King Richard." The Sheriff came to Nasir and handed to him at object wrapped in cloth. "You are Saladin's new messenger."

Nasir unwrapped the object which was Saladin's royal seal. "Where did you get this?"

"This belonged to Saladin's old messenger," Vaisey said.

Archer and Guy stared at the Sheriff incredulously. They began to understand where the Sheriff had gone during the several hours between their arrival to the house and the visit of Karim and Nasir.

"My people, my experienced French mercenaries, found him, tied him up, and then I took the seal," Vaisey explained. "Of course, I didn't need witnesses and the messenger is currently… a little dead."

"You are a dangerous man, Sheriff Vaisey," Nasir said, smiling widely. "But there is also a password."

Vaisey laughed. "Oh, yes, it wasn't very difficult to get it. The poor messenger didn't have a chance even to have a long and sweet chat with me, though I didn't need him to talk much. I only needed the password." He looked at Karim. "It was pulling teeth that broke the messenger, and he spoke eagerly."

Karim and Nasir laughed. Guy and Archer remained somber.

"Should I kill the King when I get in his camp?" Karim asked.

Vaisey shook his head in denial. "No, no, no. You won't get to within a thousand yards of the King's tent, even if the peace treaty is signed. I want you to lure him out."

Nasir looked amazed. "How? What will I tell the King?"

"You will tell the King's guards that you are Saladin's messenger; you will show them your seal. You will get inside the camp and inform them that you have an urgent message from Saladin about the changes in the peace treaty," the Sheriff said monotonously. "As soon as the King hears that, he will agree to meet with you. When you should tell him that Saladin wants to re-consider some terms of the treaty and that they need to meet personally, face-to-face, to discuss the issue."

"You think Melek-Ric will agree?" Karim doubted the plan.

Vaisey smiled craftily. "The King will agree if he thinks that Saladin may revoke the peace treaty."

"Ah," Guy and Archer said together.

"Great!" Nasir gave the Sheriff an appreciating smile. "You are truly a resourceful man, Lord Vaisey."

Vaisey clapped his hands in the air. "I am. I am."

Nasir frowned. "It is a pity that we cannot massacre the barbaric King like a wild dog... like he massacred the prisoners in Acre. I regret that he wasn't killed in the massacre in the Crusaders' camp." He giggled. "Otherwise he would have been known as _the massacred Melek-Ric_."

"That raid was doomed to failure from the beginning," Vaisey asserted. "For many reasons."

"Unfortunately, it is true," Nasir agreed. "Now they are on a very high alert. We cannot even walk freely in the direction of the Crusaders' camp. Everything is patrolled by the King's guards."

"And you forgot two complexities," Karim interjected.

"What?" Vaisey said irritably.

"Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntington, and Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester," Karim said.

"Oh, these men… They are a great problem. They won't let the King meet with us alone," Nasir agreed.

Sheriff Vaisey threw his head back and laughed uproariously. "_I have been thinking about an effective trap for Robin of Locksley for many months_," he said seriously. He extracted the rolled parchment from the inner pocket, smiling confidently. "_We are going to add a little something extra to Saladin's message to the King. We are going to get King Richard... to kill Robin Hood_." Then he became serious. "We will need to ask James what to do with Robert de Beaumont."

Everyone stared at Vaisey in bewilderment mingled with shock, at loss for words.

"King Richard will never kill Huntington. He loves him very much," Nasir snapped, shaking his head.

"_Believe me that the King will be very angry, overwhelmed with maddening rage, as soon as he reads these two letters_," Vaisey contradicted as he came to Nasir and handed the parchment to him. "_Robin Hood's hours are numbered. He won't be a problem for us anymore._"

Nasir unrolled the parchment and looked through the text. Then he laughed, leaning against the wall. "I have no doubt that Melek-Ric will be enraged if he sees these parchments."

Vaisey feigned sadness on his face. "How terrible! How evil! The brave and honest Captain Locksley has been a wretched traitor to his King for so long, masking under the cover of goodness and loyalty." His expression turned horrified. "Poor King Richard! He has cherished a viper in his bosom for so long."

Archer tensed. "What are you planning?" He wanted to kill Robin in Acre, not the King of England, intending to say later that he had no chance to kill Richard but killed Robin Hood. Now, if the Sheriff planned to take care of Robin in another way, he didn't know what to do.

"_We are going to tell King Richard that his beloved Robin has been the Black Knight for two and a half years, since his return to Nottingham. The King will have the written proof of Hood's guilt, and nothing will pacify his Angevin temper then_," Vaisey explained. "_If Roger de Lacy comes here – I believe he will appear here soon – he will also be considered a traitor._"

"What have you done, my lord?" Guy looked curious.

"I hired a great scribe in Nottingham, and he produced some pretty useful fake letters written as if in Hood's handwriting and stamped as if with the real seal of the Earls of Huntington," Vaisey said with a laugh. "I paid quite a large fortune for this pleasure, but it was worth doing that." He looked at Guy, grinning widely. "You see, Gisborne, I have taken care of everything in advance. As soon as Robin of Locksley and Roger de Lacy become traitors and are dead, you may come back to Locksley. I did that for you, my Gizzy, to give you back what you lost for the second time."

"Thank you, my lord," Guy said numbly, thinking that either the Sheriff or he had gone mad. His lips trembled as he tried to return a grateful smile, but he failed.

Guy didn't feel thrilled at the thought of getting Locksley back by letting King Richard kill Robin Hood as a traitor. He had never imagined that the Sheriff could have gone so far to get what he wanted. He feared to imagine what Vaisey would do to him, to Marian and Isabella, if he betrayed his master. _The Sheriff was a madman whose cunningness and cruelty had no limits. The horrible thought swept through Guy, the stunning realization sickening, and he fought with himself not to reveal his shock_.

"Prince John likes Roger de Lacy," Archer pointed out.

Vaisey inclined his head. "As Gisborne's boy, Allan, disappeared, it became clear that he would meet Roger de Lacy and tell him about our plans. And what will de Lacy do? Of course, he will come to Acre to save his beloved King whom he served dutifully and with devotion for seven years."

Karim cursed under his breath, his face twisting into burning hatred. "Roger de Lacy, the Captain of the Third Guard, slaughtered so many Saracens that I will scream and jump at the news of his death. I will never forget how this green-eyed young boy earned the reputation of the hellish holy warrior: Lord Walter Sheridan and Roger de Lacy led the massacre of Acre together, and they were absolutely pitiless to our countrymen." He paused for an instant. "I hate Sheridan and de Lacy with all my heart!"

"What about the Earl of Huntington? Did he kill unarmed prisoners?" Archer inquired.

A dangerous spark appeared in Karim's eyes. "Robin of Locksley, the Captain of the Private Guard, is known for his infamous humanity in the Holy Land. But he is usually not very human on the battlefield, for he possesses outstanding fighting skills and killed many Saracens."

"Killing on the battlefield and killing defenseless men are different things," Archer gave an argument. "Did Robin of Locksley kill unarmed prisoners?" He wished to hear the truths about the half-brother.

The Sheriff laughed, looking at Archer attentively, but said nothing. Guy eyed Archer with interest.

"The Earl of Huntington has a very chivalrous reputation; the Earl of Leicester, the King's beloved favorite and Huntington's close friend, is also known for his chivalry," Nasir answered scornfully. "Huntington didn't participate in the massacre of Acre, but he deserves to die because he ruined many of our assassination attempts on King's life and because he killed very many of our countrymen."

Karim smirked. "Good point, Nasir."

Archer glanced away. "I see." He greatly hesitated to proceed with the murder of Robin.

"We will win. Nothing can stop us now," the Sheriff said confidently, his face splashing into a wry grin. "The King will be dead. Robin Hood will be dead. Prince John will become the King of England. We will get power beyond measure." His gaze drifted to Guy. "You, Gisborne, will finally settle scores with Hood. Isn't it charming that Robin will be killed by his precious King?"

"It is… very good," Guy muttered, close to stammering with nervousness, his mouth smiling even as the words came through clenched teeth.

Vaisey approached Guy and pulled him into his arms, imitating a warm embrace. "Don't let me down, Gisborne. Remember what I told you about your lepers. Don't make me teach you a lesson."

"I haven't forgotten." Guy swallowed hard. Frustration from the communication with the Sheriff had become as familiar to him as breathing, but now he felt as though he had been pushed to his limit.

"I have even arranged everything to make Locksley yours again," the Sheriff whispered.

"Thank you," Guy managed to say.

Vaisey disentangled from their embrace. "Be loyal to me, and I will reward your loyalty. I have done everything for you. You are nothing without me."

Guy nodded. "I know."

Vaisey looked around the group of men, meeting Nasir's gaze. "Death to the barbaric King!"

"Death to Melek-Ric!" Karim and Nasir cried out.

In half an hour, they had another important visitor – Sir James of Lambton, the former Head of the King's Private Guard in Robin's absence in Acre and presently a common guard. He was one of the King's favorites and was highly trusted by Richard. He was the only spy in the King's camp who still worked for the Black Knights and whom Robin and his friends failed to uncover during their new secret reconnaissance in disguise.

"Can I come in?" James began as he paused near the door.

Dressed in a white Crusader tunic, James had a wrinkled but expressive face and a clean-cut jaw, slightly grim; his skin was heavily tanned which contrasted sharply with his grizzled hair. There were slyness and darkness in his grey eyes that looked at everyone with haughtiness and arrogance.

Karim and Nasir bowed to James, and James nodded at them. They knew him very well, for they were in close contact with the spy during many years when they unsuccessfully tried to kill King Richard.

Guy also nodded at James, and James nodded back; they had also met each other when Guy had been in Acre last time. James was the man who had helped to organize the infamous Saracen raid when Guy had stabbed Robin and then failed to kill the King because of Robin's interference.

"Sir James," Vaisey said with unhidden familiarity, "It has been so long since I last met you in London."

James stepped inside the room, smiling at the Sheriff. "I miss my family and I want to go home, but I had to live in this hellhole for so long." He smiled craftily. "But soon everything will be different."

Vaisey smiled back. "Yes! We will come back to England covered in glory after killing the King!"

James nodded. "Yes, Lord Vaisey. And tomorrow is the most suitable day for regicide attempt."

"Why is that so?" Nasir asked. "The King signed the peace treaty!"

"Let me tell James our plan," the Sheriff broke in. "He has to know what I invented to deal with Robin of Locksley, so he cannot thwart our plans again; Roger de Lacy won't be a threat to our plans either." His expression turned serious. "We will have to decide what to get rid of Robert de Beaumont."

The Sheriff proceeded to tell James the details of the plot against Robin of Locksley and Roger de Lacy. He was talking with unlimited enthusiasm, feeling immensely proud of himself, that he was the man who had designed the plan of Robin Hood's downfall. Finally, he would kill Robin and the King, he thought. Vaisey remembered de Lusignan's words about the fact that Hood's death wasn't in Prince John's interests now, but he also knew that they had to deal with Robin because Robin would surely do everything to stop regicide again, and that was not what they needed. He was sure that Prince John would forgive him for killing Robin thanks to the greatest success – the assassination of King Richard.

James was surprised to hear such an outrageously guileful plan. He did more than smile – he laughed outright, his laugh bright and ringing. "What a funny idea to have Huntington killed by King Richard," he said; and he looked pleased. "I think the proof of Huntington's alleged guilt which you have, Lord Vaisey, is more than enough to have the legendary Captain Locksley executed by his precious King."

"Well, well! I agree!" Vaisey said with glee. "We should proceed."

James looked at Guy. "This time, Sir Guy, you won't have to kill Captain Locksley from the back to neutralize the threat! This time the King's Captain will be killed by his own liege!" He laughed again.

"Certainly," Guy muttered between set teeth.

As Guy plastered a smile on his face and looked at James of Lambton, he thought that he disliked and despised James, the traitor in the midst of so many Crusaders loyal to the King, since the time he had met him in Acre. Guy committed many crimes in his life, but he loathed all traitors and betrayal as much as Robin did, and this also made him loathe himself for acts of treason he committed and was going to commit again. Whatever one could say about him, but Guy could be very loyal, like he was loyal to the Sheriff, though he was loyal to the wrong man and he knew about that.

"What about Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester?" Nasir inquired. "He can ruin our plans, too. When Huntington was here and in Huntington's absence as well, Captain Beaumont thwarted many regicide attempts; once he even almost died in the raid we organized near Ascalon."

"We don't need to do anything with Robert de Beaumont," James replied cheerfully. "He won't be a threat, and this is one of the reasons why we must proceed with our mission tomorrow."

Archer tensed. "Why is that so?"

"It is very interesting, James. Speak please," Vaisey almost purred.

"King Richard and his entourage are intending to sail from Acre the day after tomorrow," James continued as he ran his eyes over the group of conspirators. "All Crusaders are currently celebrating the achievement of peace in the Holy Land. There is a great farewell party today in one of the expensive brothels in the southern part of Acre. Almost everyone gathered there, including Robert de Beaumont, Carter of Stretton, Roger de Tosny, Aubrey de Vere, and two other King's favorites. From the King's most loyal men and chief generals, only Edmund of Cranfield and Robin of Locksley don't participate in today's drunken dissipation." He scoffed. "I also was there, but I retired in the middle of the party to meet with you here."

Karim and Nasir exploded with laugher. Archer smiled somewhat sadly. Guy's face was impenetrable.

"La di da di da! It is so laughable," Vaisey sung. "_We will be able to kill the King in the very vulnerable moment when his guard is down and when most of his loyal soldiers are sleeping after the night of wanton orgies_." He laughed maliciously. "I guess the Earl of Leicester will spend the whole night with Saracen lepers. I remember very well the stories about his passion for debauchery."

James sniggered. "Oh! Yes, my lord, Leicester always enjoys dissipation with exotic whores in local brothels when he has a chance. He always has fun with every girl he finds attractive. He is a well-known philanderer." He paused for an instant. "Huntington is also a ladies man, but he is more… selective and moderate than Leicester has ever been."

"So Leicester will be drunk after this night," Nasir said, relieved. "He will be sleeping in the morning like a baby, and he will be unable to do anything. This is great news."

"Leicester already was inebriate when I left. He was surrounded by three whores and enjoyed his time very much," James reported.

Vaisey smiled. "Very good! Let Leicester have some… fun with lepers tonight! I don't mind at all!" He smirked. "It is the only chance when I approve of having distraction with lepers."

Everyone laughed at Vaisey's joke. Archer's laugh was uneasy. Guy forced himself to smile.

"Only Huntington is a threat." Archer sighed heavily.

"Yes, Archie, yes!" Vaisey giggled, his face brightening with joy. "And my crafty plan will take care of our little Hooddie!" He smacked his lips. "Nobody will stop us tomorrow! We will kill the King!"

"I want the Earl of Huntington dead," James hissed.

"Sir James, you hate him so much," Guy asserted. "I noticed it when I met you last time."

"Yes, I hate Captain Locksley!" James sputtered, relapsing into anger. "I have hated him since the day when I met him at the royal court in Poitiers." He sucked in his breath. "King Richard has always favored him beyond measure! The King has spoiled him too much!" He raised his voice. "I loathe Huntington! And I cannot wait when King Richard will kill him for his supposed treason!"

Archer was appalled with the amount of hatred in James' words. "You do envy him, Sir James?"

"The King spoiled this brat and gave him everything what others never had," James said, shuddering in rage. "But tomorrow the King will have a great surprise! Huntington will be alone with the King who will accuse him of treason! There can be nothing better than to see the defeated Captain Locksley!"

"Your envy is not a trifle," Archer said, more appalled than before. "But tell me whether Huntington deserved what the King gave him or not? I have heard that he saved that King's life many times."

James looked abased. "This braggart deserves only death! He–"

Archer cut the traitor off sharply. "I asked you this question out of mere curiosity. I just want to know whom I will kill tomorrow; it is always better to know your victim and enemy." He forced a smile to appear on his face, pretending that he was resolute to kill Robin, which now was quite to the contrary.

A wry smile curved Guy's lips. "Well, it seems our assassin has shown his teeth." He wondered whether Archer played a game or not, but his words sounded so sincere.

"My dearest, gracious Lord," Vaisey cried out in delight. "It is also my tactic! Know your enemy and be prepared in advance!" Yet, he didn't trust Archer even more than before, but he played his game.

"Huntington deserves to die at least because Melek-Ric favors him," Nasir asserted.

Like Nasir, Karim hated all Christians and King Richard in particular; he would have killed everyone, even Vaisey, James, Guy, and Archer, if he could. "Melek-Ric will be dead by midday! Captain Locksley will be executed and buried in an unmarked grave as a traitor! This is what Allah dictates us to do!"

James, Nasir, and Karim left in an hour after they had discussed the rest of the Sheriff's plan in all details. Vaisey was happy, waiting for the King and Robin to be delivered into the hands of death. Guy was somber, wonderstruck with the depths of the Sheriff's evilness and speculating why he wasn't thrilled with the oncoming deaths of his childhood nemesis and the King, which would grant him much power. Archer was serious and sullen, hiding dark secrets about his past, his spirits low as he was uncertain whether he wanted to participate in the Sheriff's murderous plan.

§§§

The overpowering heat of the morning awoke Marian from the darkness of a nightmare. She again found herself caught up once more in the dream which haunted her since they had left England.

Marian dreamed that she stood on the decks of two ships sailing away in the opposite directions, and the sea, splashing in rising angry waves, created a foam-flecked barrier between her and another figure, barely recognizable in the mist. Then that figure jumped into the sea, swimming in her direction and fighting desperately to reach Marian's ship, and she saw that it was a male figure. The man struggled with every ounce of strength and willpower until he was about to sink but was able to grip someone's hand that suddenly appeared above him and pulled him to her ship.

But tonight the sea in Marian's old nightmare was red, not blue or deep blue, and no hand appeared to drag the man out of the water. She saw the man chocking with red water, with blood, and then his head disappeared under the water as he tumbled into the dark abyss of death.

Marian felt her body trembling, and many tiny beads of sweat were on her forehead. Opening her eyes, she tried to gain her bearings, realizing that she was in an unfamiliar place. Her eyes fell on the bars on the window, and she recalled that they were in Acre. She shuddered, her breathing shaky; she reached up for her face and realized that her cheeks were wet. She was so consumed by her nightmare that she silently wept asleep and the images were still playing through her mind.

Marian turned her gaze at Guy's sister. Her head on the silk pillow and her legs coiled, Isabella lay on the other side of the wide bed on white sheets; she looked tired, with dark circles under her steel blue eyes and some harsh lines on her high cheekbones. Unlike Marian, Isabella was incapable of sleeping on that night in spite of their tiredness after the journey in the violent storm.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Isabella inquired.

Marian blinked. "Yes, it was not a good dream."

"You look like a sad Medusa!" Isabella teased.

Marian looked down at herself. "What do you mean?"

"Your hair is spreading in snakelike waves across the pillow. And you cried," Isabella explained.

"Ah," Marian breathed. She sat in the bed, shaking back the curled masses of her chocolate hair.

"It is very hot here. I wonder how the Saracens are able to live in this hot climate. I would not be able to withstand the sun for more than several months."

The heat was unbearable and they could hardly breathe with full lungs. The hot rays of the morning sun shone at them through the window, dazzling their eyes. Their heads were spinning, as much from the exhaustion as from the mere thought that they were in the Holy Land, surrounded by death everywhere and possibly forced to face the end of their own lives at the Sheriff's hands very soon.

"The weather can also be cool and rainy in the winter and the spring," Marian added nonchalantly.

Isabella stared at her, amazed. "How do you know?"

Marian smiled simply, her mind traveling to Robin. "I just know." The only memories of the Crusade Robin shared with her were about the weather in the Holy Land.

The door flung open and Archer entered the room. He had two baskets of food in his arms. Greeting the ladies, he walked to the bed and put the baskets there; there were fresh bread and a jug of wine and milk inside. Isabella smiled at him gratefully and suddenly realized how hungry she was and wolfed the food immediately, washing it down with great draughts of wine. In contrast to Guy's sister, Marian turned away, her expression filled with repugnance.

Archer looked baffled. "Lady Marian, aren't you hungry? Some bread and wine cannot please you very much, but we don't have exquisite food here. But if it is not to your liking, I will find something else."

Marian gave him a wan smile. "No, thank you. I have no appetite."

"Well, alright," Archer said with a sigh.

"At least they give us something to eat." Isabella nipped a piece of bread.

Archer looked between Marian and Isabella, his half-brother's wife and his sister, his gaze focusing at Marian. He thought that Guy of Gisborne was a lucky man to be married to such a beautiful and well-mannered woman. He was careful to keep his eyes above the level of Marian's neck and her rosy lips, so as to avoid embarrassment from openly admiring another man's wife.

Marian caught Archer's curious, intensive gaze. She remarked that Prince John's assassin was watching them, and she wondered why Archer seemed so reluctant to leave. Suddenly, the idea struck her: she could have tried to persuade Archer to spare the King's life and warn Richard about regicide.

Archer watched Marian in silence, from time to time turning his gaze at Isabella and also smiling, and then, taking a deep breath, he swung around, intending to go and find the Sheriff.

"Master Archer," Marian called him. "Please don't leave."

Archer turned around, startled. "My lady, how can I help you?"

"Don't commit an act of high treason," Marian said, looking him in the eye.

Archer gaped at her words. "I am sorry, my lady, but I cannot grant your request."

"Master Archer, don't kill King Richard. I know you are an assassin hired by Prince John, and you are here because you were paid by the Prince," Marian said directly. "I may do that you will get much more than Prince John paid you for the murder of the King and Robin of Locksley."

"And how can you do that?" Archer grinned at her sheepishly.

Marian was stunned with Archer's grin, so familiar and charming. "If you warn King Richard about the regicide attempt on his life, the King will pardon you. He is generous with those who serve him well."

Archer looked genuinely puzzled. "Pardon me?"

"_Master Archer, I will vouch for you before King Richard_," Marian persisted, clinging to the only hope that wasn't lost. "_The King will surely pardon you, Master Archer, and he will pay you a vast sum of money if you warn him about the danger and save his life. I promise you that._"

Archer measured Marian with a skeptical look. "You are right that I do only everything for profit, and I have a contract to kill the King and Robin Hood. But even if I switch sides now, I doubt that King Richard will treat me favorably; the King is known as a cruel and vengeful man."

"Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntington, will help us. He will talk to the King and persuade him to pardon you. He is the King's close friend and has a great influence over our King," Marian continued. "I will speak to the King. The King or Robin will pay you more than Prince John did."

An ominous scowl darkened Archer's face. "Do you know Robin of Locksley? Why should I believe you?"

"Robin and I grew up together. We were betrothed many years ago. He will listen to me, he always does," Marian elaborated, desperate to save the King. "Robin is very devoted to the King, and if you save King Richard's life, he will be immensely grateful to you. He will help you come out of the mess alive and rich. I don't doubt that Robin himself will give you everything if you save the King."

Archer laughed ruefully, reached into the scrip at his belt, and touched a purse of coins, thinking that the proposal would have been tempting if he hadn't wished to take Robin's lands and estates for himself after his brother's death. Besides, he found it amazing that one of his half-brothers had been once betrothed to Marian and then another half-brother married the same woman.

"Locksley, this arrogant asshole?" Archer snapped disdainfully.

"You don't know him. Don't believe rumors which you heard," Marian said wrathfully. "Robin is a good man. He may be arrogant and full of himself, but he is kind-hearted and honest. He will do everything to save the King and England. He will sacrifice everything for the sake of England and the King. He is so compassionate that he will gladly give his life for the most humble soul in the world."

Isabella's lips twisted into a small smile as she realized the depths of Marian's affection for Robin.

"You are biased towards him." Archer was irritated with Marian's defensive outburst, but something in his heart rolled over and he hesitated for a moment.

Marian's face contorted with anger. "I am not biased. Robin has always been the King's grand favorite, the Head of the Private Guard and the celebrated warrior. He can have whatever he wants if he only asks the King. Yet, he gave up his titles and lands to stand for justice and help the poor, though he didn't need to live in the forest and could have allowed the Sheriff to kill the people whom he saved."

Archer scoffed. "He became Robin Hood for glory. Knowing that the King would eventually pardon him, he considered his life in the woods a mere adventure until the King's return."

"Yet, Robin of Locksley didn't stand up for Guy and me when we were banished from Locksley. He should have helped us, but he didn't do that," Isabella said flatly. "But from what I have heard about Robin Hood, I cannot disagree that he saved many lives and helped people very much."

Marian gave Isabella a warm smile. "You are right, Isabella. Robin Hood saved many lives." Her eyes flew to Archer's face. "And you, Master Archer, want to kill the kind man who saved lives and helped the poor? You are ready to take Hood's life after everything he did for the people?"

Archer gave Marian a chilling, wolfish grin. "Prince John paid me much money for the deaths of King Richard and Robin Hood. And he promised to pay me even more upon our return from Acre."

"How can you think only about money? Don't you have at least some conscience?" Marian fumed. "Are you ready to betray King Richard and your country for coins, for remuneration? Are you ready to kill Robin Hood who would do everything to save our King and who saved many people for coins?" She rose from the bed and stood before Archer, her blue eyes blazing with hot anger. "You are a despicable man! You are a traitor to your King and your country!"

Archer frowned, but then restrained himself and merely nodded his head, once. "You don't know my story, my lady. I have to live with hard, cold pragmatism in my mind to stay alive and support myself, whereas some people have everything from birth and live in luxury." He hinted at Robin.

"I don't know you, but I know that everyone must have human values," Marian shot back.

Archer sighed. "Lady Marian, you were born a noblewoman, and you don't know what poverty is and how bad it can be. You may award yourself the privilege of feeling anger and outrage at the thought of killing the King and his favorite, but I may not. Don't question my motives, for you don't know them."

Yet, Archer greatly hesitated. The recent murder of Guy de Lusignan by Vaisey shocked him even more, raising more questions within him, and the desire to kill Robin, the cherished royal favorite, and take Robin's title after his death battled with an equal desire to let Robin live and learn more about him, for Archer heard many positive things about his heroic half-brother. But he himself used his chance and came to Prince John, offering his services to kill the King and Hood. With flagitious clarity, Archer realized that he had no one but himself to blame for the matter.

Marian lowered her chin defiantly. "I pity you, Master Archer."

"I don't care what you think." Archer turned around, then marched to the door, slamming it loudly behind himself.

Marian could no longer keep her composure under control, and her face lost its blankness and calmness. She clenched her fists and sat down on the edge of the bed. Isabella shook her head at the vision of the other lady's distress.

"There is something between Robin and you," Isabella said with a hint of sarcasm.

"It is not your deal, Isabella."

"I don't care what you feel for Robin. I just shared with you my observations," Isabella said calmly. "Let's better think how to save ourselves from the Sheriff."

"Robin will save King Richard. He will save us, too," Marian said cocksurely. "I believe in Robin of Locksley. I believe in Robin Hood."

* * *

><p><em>I hope you truly enjoyed this chapter and the plot.<em>

_Well, the Sheriff is finally in Acre and is preparing for the regicide attempt in Acre. Some things are similar to what happened in S2E13, but the framework for the regicide attempt is different. _

_King Richard has already signed the peace treaty with Saladin, but the Sheriff knows what to do, for he always has a plan like Robin always has half a plan. My Vaisey is a more cunning and resourceful man than he was on the show. Now Vaisey has the crafty plan to lure the King out of the Crusaders' camp into the desert by pretending that the peace treaty may be revoked by Saladin if Richard doesn't agree to discuss possible changes of some terms face-to-face with Saladin. _

_I was shocked that in S2E13 King Richard was stupid enough to believe the words of the so-called Saladin's envoy about Robin's treason without credible evidence. It was really weird that Richard ordered to execute Robin only because of hearsay. I like the idea that Robin is exposed as a traitor and I really want to place Robin in the extreme situation when his loyalty to King Richard is placed under a great test; yet I don't want to make Richard a stupid jerk as he was portrayed on the show. _

_I am trying to correct the flaws we had in the series two finale. There is an effective trap for Robin Hood and his friends, but the circumstances are different because Vaisey is more cunning. Vaisey hired the scribe in Nottingham to produce fake letters proving Robin's alleged treason; these letters are also stamped by the seal similar to that of the Huntingtons._

_Guy and Archer are under a great pleasure. As you see, both Archer and Guy are somehow hesitating to proceed with Vaisey's plan. The murder of Guy de Lusignan had a significant impact on them, and they are also able to see that Vaisey's cruelty and cunningness are unlimited when Vaisey tells them about the plan to have Robin killed by the King. It seems that Guy has to kill the King because he is trapped by the Sheriff who threatens to kill both Marian and Isabella if Guy betrays him._

_I don't envy Guy and Archer. And I don't envy Robin either. There are also Marian and Isabella who are kept hostage by the Sheriff. They all are in a terrible situation. What will each of them do? __Will Guy or Archer will warn the King and stop on time? Will Marian interfere? What about Isabella?_

_The historical King Richard was a vengeful and temperamental man, and many of his loyal knights feared the explosion of the Angevin temper. And if the King somehow gets these letters into his hands, he will have the written proof of Robin's treason. Can you imagine what will happen? Don't forget that Robin is not only the King's favorite and close friend, but also his half-brother in this story/novel._

_I will be glad to learn what readers think at this stage. I really feel nervous when I upload these chapters, for I spent too much time writing the regicide attempt. **So I do really beseech you to review, for it improves my confidence with these chapters which make me so nervous.** _

_There will be a great drama in the next chapters. Chapters 6, 7, 8, and 9 are the culmination for part 2 of Quintessence. I ask you to be prepared – there are surprises and drama for all character; the triangle Robin/King Richard/Guy with be untangled in a grand and extremely dramatic manner. I was asked by many reviewers who will die and I see that many reviewers, especially those who read me on the Tudors fandom, are guessing whom I am going to kill off – I confirm that there is a character death in chapter 7, but this person maybe either a main character or a minor character. Don't worry: it won't be as bad as you can probably imagine, it will be interesting, and every twist has its purpose. Just enjoy drama._

_I am updating today because I know that you want the promised drama and because today is one of the few days when I have access to Internet; I am travelling now and I spent more than a week on the remote island lost in the ocean, where I am going to return in a day or so. I will try to update within two weeks, but if there are any delays of a week or two this time, then I beg your pardon in advance._

**_Reviews are always appreciated, including well-grounded criticism._**

_If you find any typos and/or mistakes here, please let me know about them in a private message. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter. Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours faithfully, Amaranthe Athénaïs_


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